Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor
by Nighttmaire
Summary: After the events in the Graveyard, Harry has been having nightmares. With a change of living arrangement, new information on his past, and a transfer Professor at Hogwarts from Ilvermorny, how will Harry's fifth year play out? And what strange ties does he have to the Sword of Gryffindor? Part one of a Trilogy.
1. Chapter 1: A Change of Place

Chapter 1: A Change of Place

It was an uncomfortable warmth that spread over Privet Drive. A consistent wave of heat that was not unbearable, but made most of the residents along the street sweat before their fans and air conditioning units.

This was the case for three people inside Number 4. A large waddling man moved towards the living room, cold beverage in hand, and sat in his favourite chair. He sighed in relief as his thin ghastly wife made sure the unit in their living room cooled it down even more, before relaxing in her own plush recliner. Despite the cooler temperature in said room, their son still constantly complained about the heat. He was built like his father, rather unfortunately. Many who met him would likely describe him as a whale – not to his face however. For this particular whale had a reputation among some as a bully.

There was a fourth resident, however. One that did not sit in the refreshing cool of the living room, relaxing and taking a break. Instead he stood over an oven to ensure the chicken linguine he had been tasked with cooking was finished to perfection. Or however perfect an untrained teenager could make such a dish.

Sweat threatened to fall from his black messy hair into the food, and he deftly wiped it away with the stained tea towel he was given to use that looked closer to a rag. It was still cleaner than most of his clothes, particularly the sweaty mess he was wearing as he slaved away.

It had been like this ever since he had returned from school for summer. All he did was housework, of which more began to pile up for him as the warmer weather swept through Surrey. Gardening, painting, washing, cooking, and anything else he was tasked with. Then sleep.

The truly perverse part to Harry Potter was not the work he was forced to do. Nor was it the bullying and attacks from his cousin Dudley that interrupted his work. It wasn't even the abuse he got from his Aunt Petunia, or his Uncle Vernon No, it was the fact that he actually looked forward to the glorified slavery and the beatings. Anything was better than sleep.

Since the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry had yet to gain a full night's rest. He had tried not sleeping at first, simply staying awake as long as possible to avoid the horrors his unconscious mind showed him. Yet, that only made matters worse. The less he slept, the more he needed sleep and more than once, his body gave up and forced his hand. Which was problematic when his relatives were expecting housework done and he was found sleeping, thrashing and crying. They did not take kindly to that freakish behaviour. As such he resolved to get at least a solid hour of sleep a night.

It was unhealthy, he admitted to himself as he stirred his relative's dinner. He knew he should sleep more. But reliving those events, being haunted by memories and visions – it only served to hurt.

This was the case after his first night back for the summer. A particularly bad dream had caused Harry to lose his dinner all over the floor of his modest bedroom in Number 4. Uncle Vernon, the aforementioned gargantuan in the cool, saw to it that Harry knew what happened to him if he made a mess in the Dursley household. After his less-than-ideal lesson, Harry cleaned the mess he had made.

It had gotten to the point that Harry detested sleeping. It was once a reprieve, both from his jailors in Surrey and the prying eyes of Scotland. But it had become something he truly loathed to attempt. It now became even more painful than his experiences with the Dementors.

Harry's nightmares could be summed up in three distinct categories. The first was memories. Harry's brain, whether out of fear, guilt or some outside interference, made him relive Cedric Diggory dying over and over. Hearing the callous words of a weak Voldemort, commanding his follower Peter Pettigrew to kill the spare repeated itself multiple times as he slept. But that was nothing compared to the haunting sound of hearing someone take their final breath. A breath that Harry had heard thousands of times at this point in his night time torture sessions.

And every time Harry saw Cedric's eyes lose their light again, he swore it broke him a little more.

The second category could only be described as dark fiction. Essentially, Harry would find himself in situations that made him sick to his stomach. Being tortured by the detestable Barty Crouch Jr., or being forced under the Imperius Curse to hurt Hermione Granger, one of his best friends. He even had a particularly disturbing dream where the traitor Wormtail had transformed into Ron Weasley, his other best friend, and was telling him all the evil sadistic things he could think of. Still, these were preferable to the other forms of nightmares. At least he knew they couldn't be real.

The truly disconcerting dreams were those Harry was certain weren't in fact dreams. Since the previous year, the last remaining Potter had known he could somehow see the world through the eyes of the Dark Lord. And Harry had been shown some very disgusting scenes of late. Murder, assault, torture. The first night he watched as a muggle was fed alive to Nagini, Voldemort's snake. Not that Vernon would understand that as the reason for his sickness.

But it wasn't just the scenes he was seeing that disturbed Harry. It was the feelings. When he saw what Voldemort was doing, he could sense the glee in him as he murdered innocent, defenceless muggles. The anger as he punished insubordinate Death Eaters. The malice whenever conversation turned to Potter himself. It was these feelings that scared Harry more than anything. Because they didn't feel wrong.

The conversations about Harry had not been too much of a revelation, and were few and far between. From what Harry had gathered, the Daily Prophet had been belittling both Harry and his Headmaster at Hogwarts for trying to tell people that the Dark Lord was once again alive.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, the raven-haired boy began to dish out the pasta. Honestly, it looked great all things considered.

Too bad he already had been given the tin of soup he was to eat in his room.

"Aunt Petunia, dinner is done!" he called after dishing out the delicious food. He could feel his stomach beginning to grumble as his senses were overwhelmed by his creation.

"Well, it's about time! Now, go to your room boy. It's time to eat, after all." Harry nodded robotically, having learned at a young age how futile asking for his own cooking was. He trudged up the stairs as his family began to dig in, listening to his Uncle Vernon praise Petunia for the dish. It was her recipe originally, after all.

Sighing, the sullen wizard sat cross-legged on the floor and opened his tin of soup. It was warmer than he anticipated – but that was due to the unnatural heat in the house he supposed.

About halfway through his glamorous feast, his eyes were drawn to movement in the corner of the room. A glove, floating near the wall waved at him. There were many possibilities. An invisible person, perhaps. More likely it was someone, be it wizard, witch or elf, that had animated the glove to grab his attention.

The glove pointed towards his window, which Harry took as an indication to the latter being the truth. Slowly, the boy moved towards the window and looked down with a gasp and a smile.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore waved up to Harry from the neatly cut grass in the back yard of Number 12. Harry waved back to his Professor, happy to finally have some contact with the wizarding world this summer. There was something off with Dumbledore though. Something about his posture was off.

In a beat, the yard was empty. Harry would be concerned if he hadn't heard the gentle popping sound behind him. "Harry, my boy. I hope you have been well?"

Harry turned to face his visitor and grimaced. Up close, Dumbledore looked how he felt. His eyes had dark circles under them, and his smile didn't quite seem genuine. Harry nodded as he wondered what had happened to the usually jovial man before him. "As good as it could be, I guess. How are you, sir?"

"Officially, I am fine. Between friends, however," the Headmaster sighed, looking his age for the first time Harry could remember. "There has been a lot to manage. Part of which I am hoping to remedy while I am here, hence my unannounced arrival. I do apologise for dropping in without warning, Harry."

Harry shook his head quickly. "No, sir. It's fine. I've been going stir crazy anyway." The following silence rang in Harry's ears. "What has Voldemort been up to?"

It was Dumbledore's turn to shake his head. "That is, unfortunately, not a conversation for here, my boy. Speaking of which, we need to discuss your living arrangements." Harry stiffened as his Headmaster look dead into his eyes. "You have made it abundantly clear in the past that you'd rather not return here – a request which I took as a childish dream to remain with magic forever. I regret to say I now know I was mistaken."

Harry watched as the great Albus Dumbledore wiped the tears from his eyes. "You see, Harry. When I first brought you to this house, I had hoped it would be a home. That the love of two sisters would carry on to you, and that this love would fuel your protection." Harry stood completely still as the Headmaster began to pace within his humble room, looking anywhere but Harry. "I broke laws to protect you the best I could, knowing that as long as Petunia loved you, you were safe."

The man seemed to grow older as he shook his head more, tears welling in his dull eyes yet again. "I hadn't noticed my protections weakening until they had almost broken. Which was last night. They broke fully this morning." Albus looked towards his student. "I am truly sorry to have ever sent you here, Harry. Had I known what they would do, had I listened to Minerva this never would have happened."

Harry was stunned. The Headmaster had sent him home with the hope he was loved. There was a small part of Harry, the part of himself he ignored in the third type of dream, that began to burn with unbridled rage towards the man who sentenced him to Dursley Prison. But despite the hidden part of him, Harry couldn't be angry at his Professor. Besides, he was too tired to truly feel that level of rage.

"You didn't know. I never told anyone how they treated me. I've been worried that Madam Pomfrey would figure it out but she hasn't said anything. How could you know? It's okay, sir." Harry smiled gently. "You only did it to help."

The Gryffindor was glad to see that twinkle return to the tear-filled eyes of his Headmaster. "In time I hope to have earned the respect and kindness you have shown me, Harry. For I do not deserve it now. Nevertheless, thank you. I would not have begrudged you hating me. You have eased this old man's heart." The pair smiled brightly towards each other.

He once again wiped tears from his eyes. "Now, your living arrangements. I have been rather ill prepared for this problem, and have had somewhat of a maddening scramble to solve it, if you will. I had thought Hogwarts, but not even us staff stay there over summer. I'd expect you to go even madder with only the ghosts and house elves for company." Harry chuckled at that thought. "Sirius and I also considered our current base of operations, but Remus rightfully pointed out that it isn't truly suitable for children. Regretfully, the Burrow is not as well protected as one would hope so that also is not an option."

Harry nodded. It made sense that Sirius and Remus were working with Dumbledore with whatever was happening on their side of the war. He was glad to hear both were safe, however. "So where am I going then?"

Dumbledore smiled softly. "Ah. I believe it best if we keep that a surprise, Harry. If you would please," he almost whispered as he offered his arm. "Do not fret for your belongings. A particularly peculiar Hogwarts house elf readily agreed to assist in your relocation. Just ensure you have your wand on you, hmm?" Harry snickered at the wink Dumbledore gave him – of course Dobby would agree if Harry Potter was involved.

The dark-haired boy grabbed his Headmasters arm and, in a flash, he felt his entire body being pushed from all sides. It was pitch black and uncomfortable. It reminded him of the Dementors, but without the chill that accompanied them. Harry was then thrust through what felt like a long pipe as he yearned to scream. As it reached the point of peak discomfort, Harry felt himself pop out the end of the tube and reform on the other side. It was insane to think it all happened in the blink of an eye.

Harry glanced around as he picked himself off the ground, still yet to find any magical transport that agreed with him as much as his broom. He struggled for a moment to see where he was as his body threatened to expel what little food was in his system. He eventually saw that he was outside a large manor house near a forest. The house itself looked old, but we'll kept. Dark wood and cobbled stone seemed to make up the majority of the manor house, though every so often he saw a glimpse of metallic bronze. "Where are we, Professor? Is this where Snuffles is staying?" he almost whispered, hoping beyond hope his godfather would be there for him soon.

"Unfortunately, no. At least, not at the moment. No, Harry my boy. This is where you should have been, had I listened to Minerva instead of being an old, single-minded fool. Welcome, Mister Potter, to The Brass Heart."

Brass Heart. Harry was nigh certain he could recall the name from somewhere. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't quite remember. "I don't really know what that is, sir."

"In due time, Harry. It is true that in some regards, it is best to seek the information you need. But in others, isn't it more magical to keep the secret alive, to allow the unknown to take you, even if it is only for another moment?" Dumbledore smiled as he looked down at the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry sighed. That's a fancy way for the Headmaster to say he wasn't telling. Well, he figured the best approach would be to find out for himself.

As he made towards the door, the Professor placed a hand on his shoulder. Albus Dumbledore once again looked mournful, his eyes losing the shimmer Harry had noticed was less commonplace these days. "It is my hope that you will forgive me once again, Harry. It was never my intention to hide what you will learn today from you. Even I was unaware of the situation myself. I am, however, responsible."

The old man then smiled, but it still didn't manage to reach his eyes. "My only advice, Harry. Beyond the walls of Brass Heart, you will find something you may have dreamt of, something you have long desired. Do not allow an old man's foolish machinations squander that chance. Take it with both hands."

He was dumbfounded. Where had Dumbledore taken him? Surely it must be secure, and with people who were trustworthy. Harry nodded towards the Headmaster, unable to formulate words after the speech. He then continued his march towards the large double doors at the entrance to the manor. Harry wished he were better with wood, it looked nice and he would love to know what kind the door was made from.

Harry's hand reached a large bronze knocker, shaped like a traditional love heart. It managed to put his mind at ease, while somehow maintaining the sense of importance the manor carried. As he waited impatiently for a response, he realised that in his tired and over exerted state he had neglected to ask the Professor for help with his sleeping problem. He turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, I've been having these dreams-"

The Headmaster had left, and Harry was extremely confused. Had he disapparated? Harry hadn't heard the tell-tale crack of magic when someone attempted that level of magic. Dumbledore usually made a rather small pop when he apparated. Harry had heard it twice already today. There was the chance he was still there, or he had used a Portkey?

It was these thoughts that flitted among Harry's mind, and the ones that disappeared when he heard the door open behind him. He turned to see who it was that had greeted him and was shocked at who it was.

She was around his height, which wasn't saying much as he knew he was shorter than average for his age. She had long dark brown hair that was loose, unlike how she would wear it at Hogwarts. She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, not too dissimilar to the clothes he was wearing. Except hers fit, and weren't still coated in copious amounts of sweat.

Her sharp, admittedly pretty face had, for an instant, a sense of intrigue on it before it glazed over to a cold mask of indifference. But behind those light blue eyes he saw an emotion he was all too well acquainted with. Hatred.

Daphne Greengrass was not pleased to see him.

* * *

**AN: Thanks to those who noted an issue with the story originally! Hopefully this fixes it? My best guess was the copy-n-paste made the text weird? Anyway, I'm planning on writing this two chapters ahead, and I just began writing chapter 3! If you notice any grammatical errors please let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2: Missed Information

Chapter 2: Missed Information

Harry stood still, silently waiting to see what the Slytherin would say or do. The look in her eyes showed him that attempting to converse with her would not be the wisest of decisions. He was perplexed by her display of anger towards him, all things considered. She had never been one of Draco Malfoy's followers at school. Perhaps she had bought into the awful things he no doubt said about Harry in private? It was most likely that. A Slytherin hating Harry Potter wasn't anything new.

"Well?"

He hadn't been expecting her to actually address him. To slam the door in his face, certainly. Or to leave and allow someone else to talk with him. But instead, she had asked him something. One word, that was it. But obviously she expected something.

"Oh. Uh, hello Greengrass. Professor Dumbledore just brought me here, and said I would be staying here for the rest of summer?" he stammered as he tried his best to relay his situation. Being so tired had its downsides. While he didn't have to live through his past failures, his future ones or whatever it was Voldemort was showing him, it meant Harry's ability to think and react wasn't up to par.

She sniffed. "Well, the Headmaster has made a mistake. It wouldn't be his first. I'm afraid that you won't be staying here, Potter." He was shocked by the amount of venom Greengrass has pumped into her pronunciation of his last name. Then she scoffed. "I almost thought you'd finally gotten your head out of your ass..."

Harry felt the hairs on his neck stand up. "I'm sorry, I must be a little hard of hearing. What was that last part, Greengrass?" he growled, his fists clenched. He dealt with this attitude from people he couldn't respond to. People who he would never hurt. But Dumbledore was supposed to have protected him, and he sent him to a home with a girl who seemed to despise his very existence. Combine that with his fatigue and pain and he was not in the mood for her attempts at subtle commentary.

She sneered towards the Potter boy. "Do not play me like a fool, Potter. You know damn well what I-"

"Daph, who is it?"

The female voice rang through the halls, and Daphne sighed loudly as she turned, beginning to shut the doors to the Brass Heart. "No one, mother. Just an annoyance."

Harry growled and made to keep the door open. He grabbed the door before it shut, his fingers being squeezed by the door and its frame. He was determined to put Greengrass in her place, and deliberately ignored the pain he felt in his right hand's fingers with an almost silent grunt. He had felt worse.

There was the sound of footsteps beyond the door, outside of the angered grunts of the Slytherin who had inadvertently slammed a door on his hand. "We are expecting a visitor, Daph. We were informed of his arrival last night. Are you sure it isn't him?" Then, there was a gasp. "Daphne Isabelle! Whose hand is that?"

"Mother! I didn't mean to-"

The door swung open and Harry sighed with relief. Even if he didn't exclaim when his hand was jammed in the door, the swelling of his fingers showed that he'd made a mistake. He immediately brought the hand to his chest and cringed. His decision-making skills were weaker than ever. He really wished he could sleep.

"Oh, my dear! I am so sorry for my daughter! Please, Mister Potter, please come here!"

After the less than warm welcome from his peer, her mother's reaction to him being outside was not what he expected. He looked up from his cradled hand to see a taller version of the girl who answered the door originally begin to beckon and nearly drag him inside the doorway. She was thin, not as thin as his aunt or himself but rather thin. She had lighter hair than Daphne, but her face was nearly identical, if more mature. Same prim nose, same full lips and same blue eyes. But where the younger Greengrass had been stoic and angry, her mother seemed both happy and appalled. "If you're sure, ma'am."

She smiled softly. "Of course, Mister Potter. We knew you were coming, we had a long talk with your Headmaster last night."

Harry nodded, ignoring the shocked look that Daphne gave her mother. "Please, ma'am. Call me Harry."

The smile on her pretty face widened. "Then you must call me Aurora. Pleased to meet you, I have so much to ask. But first," and she shot a glare at her daughter that made the stoic Slytherin wilt slightly, "let me fix your fingers for you."

Harry shook his head. "I'll be fine, ma- um, Aurora. It was my fault, I grabbed the door. I'm sure it'll heal in time." He looked down, ashamed. He had acted out of spite and anger, and for that he was hurt – but more importantly it seemed that Greengrass would be blamed for it.

"Nonsense, Harry. There is no need to be in pain if it can be fixed, no?" she rebutted. Harry found it hard to accept her help, but eventually nodded his acceptance. "Here, Harry. Hold your hand out for me?"

He had done as she asked, and within moments her wand was pointed at the inflamed fingers. Her daughter had remained silent as this was occurring, and he saw a flash of something in her eyes as she looked at his hand. Anger still, certainly. But was it... Regret?

While the mother of the impossibly difficult Slytherin girl was tutting over his hurt hand and the aforementioned girl was pouting, Harry took in his surroundings. He was in a somewhat large entrance hall within the manor. The walls were a warm yet dark red wood, with dark black floorboards. Every so often, there was a trim of bronze or brass that accented the houses aesthetic. It wasn't exactly his idea of a house design, but it seemed old so it was probably not the design choice of any of the current inhabitants. Also, one of the things he had learned at Hogwarts and the Burrow was that wizarding design was strange and eclectic.

After a few moments, the woman inspecting his injury spoke up. "Hmm... Luckily, it seems nothing was broken too bad. Although, how you managed to remain silent I'll never know, your pointer finger is definitely fractured. Would have made me cry like a baby! Well, let's fix it up, shall we Harry?" She pointed her wand at Harry's hand and he flinched slightly, drawing an odd look from Daphne and a sad one from Aurora. Nevertheless, he held still as she cast the spell to fix what was damaged. "Episkey!"

Harry grunted as the spell took hold. He felt his finger snap itself into place forcefully. He went to shake his hand out from the pain but Aurora held it firmly. He looked up and saw her looking at him with a mixture of emotions he couldn't really read. The previous sadness was evident, and confusion, perhaps?

"Any normal boy your age would be weeping from that amount of pain, Harry. I don't understand how you can just bare it." Harry didn't really understand it, but Aurora sounded almost as if she was begging for an explanation. He sighed.

"I've dealt with worse. That was nothing, really. I'm okay," he reassured her as he tried his best to smile. If anything, it made her worse to hear that response. However, she simply nodded and let go of his wrist.

"I see. Well, in any case we should do introductions. Come with me, Harry!" she turned away from him and he swore he heard a sniffle. As she started to walk briskly through the chamber towards one of the two doors at the back near the dual spiralling stairs, she called out, "You too, Daphne. You'll get the explanation I can tell you desire when Harry is informed of his new arrangements."

Harry watched the perturbed teen grumble but node and followed her mother. He followed a fair distance behind, not really wanting to anger her any further. From what he recalled of her from Hogwarts, the girl was always distant and almost didn't emote at all. He had begun to hear the title of 'Ice Queen' begin to crop up, particularly whenever Ron or Sheamus talked about the Slytherins. But, up until now Harry had no reason to dislike the girl.

Harry flexed his hand as he followed along. There were many decorations within the main hall of the Brass Heart – a long red carpet with brass trim, multiple busts of wizards and witches that turned to follow him with their stony gazes, portraits of open fields of lush emerald plains, and potted indoor and outdoor plants. Most of the plants were Muggle, and as such he could easily recognise a few of them. Aunt Petunia was very particular in her instructions.

As he crossed the threshold behind Daphne, he saw that the room they had entered seemed to be some form of sitting room. There were four plush white chairs that made almost a semicircle around a small coffee table. He saw that two of the seats were already filled, and the others were about to be.

One chair, one of the outer two was currently taken by a tall blonde man. His hair was cut short, styled in a manner that was modern, yet still imposing. He had a well-kept beard and wore similar glasses to Harry. The man wore robes that almost reminded Harry of a suit, but with a high collar. The robes were a deep grey colour, and if it wasn't for his bright green eyes and inviting smile the raven-haired boy may well have been intimidated by the man.

The other taken chair was the one to his immediate right, and was taken by an almost carbon-copy of both Daphne and Aurora – except younger, and with her father's eyes. A shade of green not too dissimilar to his own, in fact. The gaunt girl was far too skinny for her age, much like himself honestly. She was also smiling slightly, but unlike the apparent patriarch of the Greengrass family, the youngest member of said family was instead smiling at her sister who was glaring daggers right back at her. To his surprise, Harry also recognized this girl. Even the Slytherins in younger years didn't escape the conversations of Ron and the others in Gryffindor. In fact, Astoria Greengrass had been the victim of a particularly nasty Weasley twin prank the previous year – a prank Harry himself thought was unnecessary. He didn't know the full details, but apparently the poor girl was unable to talk for a week. It was good to see her with a smile on her face rather than the scowl he remembered during that time.

The man on the far right of the room stood from his chair, placing down a mug of something Harry had not noticed when he entered the room. "Ah! And this must be him then. Mister Potter, how do you do? My name is Gareth Greengrass. It is truly an honour to finally meet you, young man!" He stood forward and extended a hand. Harry was pleased to note that, unlike Astoria who immediately looked towards his forehead, Gareth did not seem to pay any mind to Harry's scar. Harry noted that the man seemed genuine in his approach, and as such grasped the older man's hand with his, grimacing only slightly at the discomfort still in his hand.

"Nice to meet you, sir. Please, call me Harry. If Professor Dumbledore trusts me to be here, I'd prefer to be called Harry. Mister Potter always makes me think Professor McGonagall will be around any corner, ready with a new tirade," Harry joked, or he attempted to.

The joke seemingly worked as both adults and even the youngest began to chuckle. "Very well, Harry. Then, none of this 'sir' malarkey, hmm?" Harry could notice at this distance that the man's hair had begun to gray, and he had a few wrinkles when he smiled towards the Boy-Who-Lived. "You must call me Gareth! May I introduce my daughters, Astoria and Daphne?"

Daphne sunk into her chair beside Astoria, a sour expression on her face. "Please, as if he doesn't know who we are already." Harry was still taken aback by her attitude. Sure, he could see that she didn't want him here and he acknowledged that he may be a burden on the family. Still, her gripe felt more personal than that. Hell, she was showing more coldness than Draco normally would.

Unlike her sister, Astoria rose to her feet with a small smile on her face. Even though she was two years his younger, she almost stood as tall as Harry. She walked forward, around the table, and placed her hand out knuckles first. "A pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face, Harry Potter."

Confused, Harry took her hand in his and, based on the positioning of her hand, took a risk and lightly kissed her knuckles. He blushed as he rose from his bow, and heard a sharp intake of breath from the other Slytherin girl. Perhaps that was a mistake, but Astoria seemed incredibly pleased so he went with it. "You too, Astoria. I only know of you really through the Weasley twins. What they did was cruel, and I hope that in the future it won't happen again." She seemed nice enough. Her light giggle and almost sickly nature convinced him to talk to Fred and George to ensure they wouldn't target this one again. Daphne, on the other hand…

Her giggle continued. "It wasn't all bad. I never knew I could sing like that, you know."

He cocked his head to the side. "Sing? I don't… Oh," he realised, a smile edging on his face. "They hadn't silenced you, you had done that yourself. They made you sing. That's almost brilliant. Both the prank, and your solution."

She nodded, her eyes hardening slightly. "It was awful in the moment. I see the humour now, but I felt so…"

She seemed to wilt before him and he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll talk to them. They kinda owe me, so I'll make sure you don't get targeted by them again. Hell, with how much they owe me you may even get an honest apology."

That made her laugh in earnest. "Please, Harry. Nothing from those two could ever be honest."

He smiled as he let go of her arm. "I wouldn't be so sure. They're nice blokes, just a little misguided. And bored. It's a bad combination."

She nodded, still giggling as she returned to her chair. Harry noticed that, next to Aurora another chair had appeared. She motioned to it and Harry sat down. It was certainly comfortable. As soon as he sat, a mug of steaming hot chocolate appeared in his hands. A small smile crawled its way onto his face as he took a sip. It was Aurora who began to speak.

"Well Harry, I must say I have been waiting for this day for a few years. I never expected it to happen in this way, not that I'm displeased mind you." Harry looked at her, confused. "How much of out family are you aware of, Harry?"

The boy shrugged. "Not much, really. I now know all of your names, although I already was aware of Daphne and Astoria. I know both are in Slytherin, of course. That's about it, really."

Aurora shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. "I figured as much. If you had known, surely you would have attempted to meet with Daphne sooner." Her statement confused Harry further. What could have had to discuss with Daphne? "As it is, I already knew that you were unaware of certain aspects – Albus told us that last night. But I was certain you would know about your mother and I."

Harry's eyes grew wide, so much so he was afraid he looked like Dobby. "You knew my mother?"

She nodded, that small smile still on her face. "Indeed, Harry. She was my best friend. I think, outside of James and the others during that last year, I was her only real friend in Gryffindor." Harry gaped at her as she chuckled. "She kept me on the right path, study wise. And put up with my constant discussion about boys. That was until I meet Gareth."

It seemed it was Gareth's turn to chuckle now. "Oh, yes. I believe it was her who asked me out for you, wasn't it dear?"

Aurora blushed slightly and glared at her husband. "Well, yes. She said it was to shut me up about you. But I think now that well, she knew that I was smitten." She looked out into the ether wistfully. "The day we lost her and James was horrible. And to hear you had survived, Harry. I was heartbroken. I had lost my best friend – but to be all alone so young. I made my case to Dumbledore, of course. As your godmother, I had the right to take you in."

"Wait, you're my godmother? Why didn't Si- anyone tell me?" Harry wondered, mentally kicking himself for almost revealing he was in contact with a well-known escapee, convict and mass-murderer who also happened to be his godfather.

"I assume it wasn't ever pertinent information, Harry. I wish someone had told you, but that's all water under the bridge now. You're here and you know. Anyway, Dumbledore said he had a safe place for you and, if you ever needed a change of home, he'd come to us first. Well, imagine my surprise when the Chief Warlock walks out of our fireplace last night. I'd never seen him so downtrodden – and myself and Gareth see him quite a bit in the Wizengamot, mind you. Well, he begged that you stay here and I was never going to turn you away, so here we are. And here you are!"

There was a burning in Harry's sleep-deprived mind as he tried to process this new information. Harry had so many questions. About his mother, about Aurora Greengrass, and the Headmaster. All of which he had wanted to ask immediately, but he was cut short by a different question aimed towards him from someone else.

"So, you're saying you didn't know?" Harry's green eyes blinked before he looked towards a now openly seething Daphne Greengrass.

The Boy-Who-Lived had faced down a lot of anger in his past, but this rage in her eyes made him physically recoil, even if it was just slightly. Maybe it was her face, her demeanour or her tone. He wasn't sure. "Uh… No. What is it I'm supposed to know?" he queried slowly, hoping to not induce her wrath any further.

Fortunately, her ire seemed to be directed at one Aurora Greengrass. She leapt to her feet, glaring at her mother. "You told me to steer clear, to give him space. You said he'd have to know! That the goblins would have informed him! I've been waiting for four years now, waiting on him and getting angrier and angrier! With him! And it's not even his fault!" Her rant began almost as a whisper, but grew into a crescendo of rage. "I should have asked him, at least! But no, my parents decided that poor Harry Potter had too rough an upbringing as the Merlin-damned Boy-Who-Lived!" Her anger towards her mother almost became tangible in the room as she continued. "Now he has no idea, and I've made a fool of myself because of you!" With that, she stormed out of the sitting room and, based on her stomping footsteps, made her way upstairs.

The room was silent for a few moments. Gareth looked shocked by his eldest's outburst. Astoria was looking at Harry with a look of sympathy on her face. Aurora just looked tired. She then sighed. "We really should have told her that Harry probably didn't know this morning, Gare. I was too self-absorbed in seeing my godson again to find her and explain what was happening. She slammed to door on his hand, honey."

Gareth sucked in a deep breath and glanced towards the Potter boy. Harry was quick to raise his hand in interruption. "No, that was my fault. At least, a little. Daphne was a little short with me, and I'm not really in a great place right now so when she was going to shut the door on me, I shoved my hand in to stop her. Don't blame her, please."

After a glance at each other, both Greengrass parents nodded. It was strange to see them both so solemn while Astoria had begun practically beaming at him, her previous pitiful look replaced with happiness for some reason. Aurora spoke up. "Harry, there is one last aspect to my… Our relationship with your parents. See, when the war started Gareth's father was in control of the Greengrass family and, like a true Slytherin, was gauging which side of the war to land on. No one in this family ever believed the blood purity nonsense, mind you. Old Maverick was trying his best to keep his family intact and alive. Both Gare and I wanted to side with Dumbledore, if only to help fight with your parents. After James and Lily were married, James and Gareth became pretty close as they were both to take over for their families soon. And Lily and I were already close."

"When Maverick was…" Aurora trailed off as she glanced at her husband as he nodded, eyes locked on the hot drink in his hands. "When he was killed by Voldemort's men, Gareth was terrified. For that reason, we agreed to stay out of the war and leave for the continent until it was solved. We had planned to leave after Halloween that year. Then, I lost my best friend, you lost your parents and the world lost a tyrant."

She looked at him sadly. "But before all that, before Maverick died… Well, James and Lily were going into hiding, you see. We weren't to see them for a while. I was never told why, but Lily was afraid. And James seemed as though he feared for his family's wealth as much as his life. The Potter's have quite a bit of wealth, Harry," she said at his questioning look, which only served to confuse him more. "We can look into that later. Anyway, if you were all gone, the money would have been forfeit to the Ministry after ten years, so long as no one claimed the vaults for themselves. Well, half would have gone to the Ministry, the other half to the goblins. And James wanted the money to do some good, you see."

She was wringing her hands, nervously. Harry squinted his eyes, trying to figure out where she was going. "That makes sense, Aurora. Why would my dad want any of his family's things to be relinquished? But how could he stop that?"

She looked at him. Her eyes were watering, no smile on her face anymore. "By making sure another family would look after it."

Harry once again cocked his head to the side in thought. "I don't know if I understand."

Aurora sighed and put her head in her hands. "I wish you would have found out years ago. The goblins said they would tell you." She looked at him again, her eyes red from the tears. Harry was unsure what to do. He had never been good with crying. Or women. "Harry, James found a way to make sure we would get his money. He would have had Sirius take it, but he didn't want the Blacks to have the funds. Which was a good choice, in retrospect" Harry nodded, that made sense. And it seemed the Greengrass family were unaware of Sirius' innocence, and Wormtail's deception. "And, well… Our family was one of the only ones that would have worked. Perhaps the Bones', but poor Ian and Barbara Bones had already been killed by Death Eaters and James needed living parents. He asked us to sign a contract, Harry."

Harry smiled. It was smart, really. And it wasn't as if the full fortune mattered to him. Money wasn't what he desired. "Ah, okay. A contract that said if they died, you'd get the money. That's okay, I don't really want it all anyw- "

"No, Harry," Gareth shook his head. His voice was quiet, and he refused to look at Harry directly. "That kind of contract wouldn't work. Too many loose ends and complications. Really, that idea would make more sense if it was placed in James' will, and he couldn't really place a clause in it stating that if all of his family died with him, we get everything. The goblins, particular little biters, don't like clauses in wills."

Aurora grabbed Harry's left hand with both of hers. "Harry, dear. You have to understand, it was the only way. We had thought this may happen, but we hoped that one of your parents survived to cancel it if needs be. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Harry's face regained the confused look it had held since he arrived on the grounds of the Brass Heart, before Aurora's next words shocked him to his very core.

"It was a marriage contract, Harry."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for the response to the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed! **

**This is the first time I have done this much future planning for a story like this, and I am pretty happy with the direction of this. My main concern is that I may be trying too much at once, but when you want to drastically change a story this much perhaps that is inevitable.**

**A review asked if I had a schedule for releasing chapters. My current idea is to release a chapter when I have finished the chapter after it. So, this is being released as I finished Chapter 3. I have school work as the moment so it may be a little spaced out.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**Nighttmaire**


	3. Chapter 3: Sour Dreams

Chapter 3: Sour Dreams

It had been a few minutes since Aurora Greengrass had dropped her previous bombshell. Harry had leant back in his chair and slumped slightly, staring into space. A marriage contract? How could his parents do that to him? Well, Aurora had explained that too, but still. He just sat there, his mind racing and reeling with all sorts of questions that never made their way to his mouth. After three silent minutes, he turned to look at the woman who had so quickly flipped his life upside-down, preparing to ask the pressing question he was certain he already knew the answer to. "Daphne?"

Aurora nodded, and Harry sighed. At least he now knew why the Slytherin girl was so furious with him. And to be honest, he didn't really blame her. He sighed, asking another question he had already answered based on context. "And there's no way out of the contract?"

He directed the question to Aurora, but Gareth was the one to answer. "I had it looked at by many solicitors, but I knew it was ironclad. The contract specifically says that the contract could only become null and void if a parent from both sides of the agreement made a motion to cancel it, instead of mentioning a guardian. James didn't trust that you would be taken in by a family they chose if they both died. He was suspicious of Dumbledore and the Ministry trying to place you somewhere else, which it seems did come to fruition. But if the Ministry had placed you with, say, the Malfoys…" Harry visibly shuddered, as did Astoria surprisingly. "You get the idea. Also, for some reason the goblins didn't allow a clause regarding the Imperius curse. So, if we didn't do it this way then one of us could have been controlled to break the contract too. It is not possible, I'm sorry my boy."

Harry slumped further down in his chair. It was nothing new for him. Just like his living arrangements, and his involvement in the tournament last year. It seemed like his life was constantly dictated by things out of his control. His hands held his face as he began to sob. He felt an arm around his shoulder and a soothing voice telling him that everything was going to be okay and he began to weep even more into Aurora Greengrass' shoulder as she held him. Never in his life had he let go like this. He had always held it in. Why did his dam break now?

"Why?" he lamented as he began to calm down, tears still within his eyes. "Why can't I just be normal? It's all I've wanted, and it keeps escaping me. But I lost them, and then everyone in magical Britain thinks they know me and people have all these expectations. And now, on top of it all, I have to get married."

He heard Aurora's sobs from above him. "Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. After everything that has happened, my poor Harry." Aurora was as torn up about this as he was, as he felt her tears begin to wet the back of his hair. "I really wish it wasn't this way, sweetie. I really wish that someone could tell you. What we signed was a marriage contract. Not a betrothal."

He leant back, confusion in his bloodshot eyes. She sighed, her own eyes watery. "Harry, when you turned eleven, and received your Hogwarts invitation letter, it finalised the contract. We tried to break it before then, but the goblins wouldn't allow us to stop it without James or Lily. You and Daphne have been married since you went to Hogwarts, Harry."

Harry's ears were ringing, and he didn't hear anything else. He stared into the space before him, seeing as much as he heard. Married? Who the hell marries off children? He understood the reasoning behind his father's decision. If all of the Potter's had died that night, Gringotts would recognize the Greengrass family as the rightful owners of the money.

At least, that's what it sounded like. No one had told him the particulars, he was just guessing. And with how fatigued he felt, his guesses were devolving rapidly. The thoughts in his mind were overrun by odd thoughts, disjointed memories and disconcerting dreams that caused him to sway slightly in his chair.

Harry had experienced this abnormal feeling a few days prior. A severe lack of sleep tended to lead to a lack of mental faculties, for a brief period. He usually had a nap to solve the issue. As his mind recollected the event when he had saved Astoria Greengrass from a troll that looked like a large, grunting Moaning Myrtle, the last remaining sane part of his sleep deprived mind promptly noticed he was losing his mind and took the only course of action he could as he quickly fell asleep. His eyes rolled back and his head lolled down as darkness took him.

All of a sudden, Harry was standing on cold, wet dirt with sparse grass. A familiar sight was around him – the graveyard of Little Hangleton. Harry felt an incredible rage fill his entire body. His eyes were fixated on what was before him – the gravestone of the Riddle family. His body was rippling with red hot anger as he stared at the grave longer and longer. He heard a hiss from behind him.

"Massster, the rat has returned from hisss mission in the Minissstry. Shall we ssspeak to him?"

Harry heard himself sigh, his rage yet to subside. After a small while, Harry spoke in a shrill voice that was alien to his mouth, but not his ears. "Not yet, my sweet. Make Wormtail sweat a bit more. No, I have another task in mind for right now."

Harry raised his pale, almost translucent hand which held a bony wand that he still regarded as a traitor somewhat after the conflict with the Boy-Who-Lived and pointed it towards the grave. With a primal scream that sent all of the internal anger spiking and flowing down his wand arm and channelling it into his wand as it thrust towards the marker of the Dark Lord's ancestors, and he felt the flow of another emotion – satisfaction. He felt his face sneer. "Goodbye, father."

Harry turned and felt himself appear at the dreary Riddle House that stood ominously on the hill. Thoughts ran through his mind, outlandish and sick ideas that, during this vision, excited the teen in ways he couldn't explain. What would happen to Potter. What he would do to Dumbledore. Graphic and violent ends were envisioned, and Harry felt that familiar sense of glee. But one thought made its way front and centre for the Boy-Who-Lived. The Malfoy Manor would be the next home of the Dark Lord.

Harry felt his bare feet touch the cold wood of the Riddle household. Simpering Death Eaters filled the halls, many too afraid to glance towards his majesty. Others had begun to prostrate themselves before him as he passed on his way to his makeshift throne. Another thing to be angry at Lucius about. Who would ever desire a throne made out of wood? What kind of wizard did Malfoy think he was? When he overtook the bumbling fool's family home, and when he had his own wand, he would fashion a new metal throne.

He took his seat upon the throne he would have to deal with and commanded his most trusted follower to retrieve the coward with a hiss. Within moments, the simpering fool rushed before him, Nagini slithering behind him, hissing happily to herself. Wormtail's silver hand reflected the low green light in the room from the green orbs of light surrounding Harry in the room, and his whole body shook with fear as he knelt before his Dark King.

"M-my Dark Lord, I have returned," Pettigrew stated, his voice impossibly quiet.

Harry's sneer returned, along with that burning rage. "Yes, it is about time, Wormtail. Please inform me as to what exactly took you so long? Nagini and I expected you back a month ago. She was… Rather impatient. She wished to go and find you herself. But I couldn't afford to lose two important followers could I, Wormtail?" he sneered further as he twiddled his phoenix feather wand in his hand. "So, you better let the two of us know what took so long, hmm?"

Wormtail shuddered and it took all of Harry's self-control to stop himself from cackling at the man before him who looked as if he was about to soil himself. "You s-see, my Lord, it was difficult to enter the Ministry without being seen so it took far longer to locate what you were asking about. The D-Department of Mysteries is locked up tight, so I had to wai-wait and sneak in. I found what you desire, my Lord but I could not touch it, even with the hand you gifted me. I believe that you will need to get it yourself, Mas-Master."

Red. All Harry could see was red. Wormtail had failed him, and had taken far too long to report back to that effect. "Wormtail. If it weren't for your efforts, your Master would have no body. And for those efforts I have rewarded you, have I not? So, tell me, why is it that since I have returned," Harry's hissing was turning into a scream, "you have been nothing more than a constant disappointment?! Crucio!"

Harry watched with satisfaction as the bumbling oaf of a Death Eater squirmed in agony on the creaky wooden floor. His scream almost managed to drown out the cackling laughter Harry could hear – his own laughter, he soon realised. After a few minutes of continued torture, he lifted the curse. He sighed and sat heavily in his throne. "What else did you learn, you miserable excuse for a Pureblood wizard? Surely, you learnt something useful?"

Wormtail's body was still shuddering as he tried his best to raise his body from the floorboards. "Th-there is a woman. One wh-who hates P-Potter and Dumbledore. And I-I have a way to h-help have her on our s-s-side. I-I was recognised M-Master, but I made s-sure we could use th-this to our advantage. I-if I may go and sh-show you, my Lord."

Harry merely nodded, a mixture of blinding rage and slight curiosity inside him at the continued shortcomings of the mess of a wizard before him. "Do not disappointment me again, Wormtail. Go, fetch this advantage. And pray that your chain of disaster had ended."

As the almost vertical Pettigrew bowed with a whimper and limped out of the room, Harry's mind was once again filled with thoughts of how to deal with the two biggest threats to his conquering of Magical Britain. The green-eyed boy who bested him too many times, and the old fool who his away in his school.

Dumbledore was a nuisance. A thorn who had been in his side for far too long. Harry recalled it being Albus Dumbledore who had pieced together the truth about the Chamber of Secrets. But, just like when he was a student, he would best the supposed Greatest Wizard of His Time with his superior abilities. There were none stronger than him. None would ever reach his power, not Albus Dumbledore and certainly not the damned Boy Who Lived.

Those green eyes had haunted him. Ever since he had been reborn from his ritual, his every night was filled with the flashes of green. Both the spell that had ended his reign years prior, but the burning emerald irises of his young nemesis. The boy would suffer, not merely for the humiliation. No, he would suffer for this never-ending torment. His thoughts raced as he thought of how the black-haired child would lay before him, a crumpled motionless heap as the world bent their knees to the new Dark Lord.

As he thought of his plethora of plans, his eyes widened in glee as he saw Wormtail re-enter, still limping as his entire body shook with nerve damage. Trailing the rat was a tall, thin redhead. He had freckles on his prim, proper face. And definitive fear in his eyes. This young man wore ministry robes and fine clothes, all of which were ripped and damaged. He was bound, being levitated before Harry by Wormtail, and the cloth in his mouth did almost nothing to alleviate the scream of horror he made when his eyes locked with Harry's.

"Very good, Wormtail. You may have failed, but have shown some ingenuity in bringing him here. Better he be in my hands than dead. Well now, Mister Weasley," Harry heard himself taunt, "how can you help Lord Voldemort?"

All Harry could hear was screaming. It began to hurt his ears with how loud it had become. Then, another sound broke through the never-ending screech. A voice that managed to pierce through the cacophony of noise and veil of shadow that threatened to swallow Harry whole.

"HARRY!"

He shot up, his throat raw and mouth dry. He thrust his wand towards the figure standing over him with he thought was a worried look on her face. The metallic tip of his wand was mere millimetres from her throat, and the look on her face shifted.

It took a second for Harry to realise he was the one screaming in agony. And, he had yet to stop. As he did, he drew the wand away from what must have been Daphne Greengrass' hazy form. He then proceeded to lose all of the soup he had eaten earlier that day onto the floor next to the bed he was on.

Guiltily, he glanced around the room from the bed. He had no idea where he was. He had soon recalled the Brass Heart and the Greengrass family, but the dark room was unfamiliar. However, someone who looked like Daphne was there which indicated that he was most likely still in their manor. He looked away from her in shame. He tried to apologise for what had happened, but was unable to talk due to his shredded throat. Even more annoyed and embarrassed, Harry began to do as he normally would and lifted his shirt over his head. Uncle Vernon had been clear on how this sort of mess was to be cleaned.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?!" Daphne nearly screamed, eyes still wide from his original defence when he awoke. It took another second before Harry realised what he was doing, and who he was doing it in front of. He blushed even more, a blush that began at his neck and covered his entire face. He looked at the incredulous girl and pointed at the mess he had made with a sorrowful look in his eyes. "What? Oh. Wait, you were going to clean that? With your shirt?" Harry nodded, glad his point had come across. After a moment, she scoffed and folded her arms. "I know it's a rag but honestly, Potter. Take some pride."

That prickling rage he felt in his dream resurfaced. She didn't know, she didn't understand. How dare she talk about him like this when she had no idea of what he had been through, what the last remaining Potter had already seen in his short life. Then he remembered. The dream, and what he had seen on this very night. He had to tell someone. He had to tell Dumbledore. He tried to leave the bed but as he began to move, he was pushed back onto the bed.

It took him no time at all to realise it was magic holding him in place. He turned his head to the left and saw blurry figures standing in the open doorway; a quiet Astoria, a hand-wringing Gareth and a weeping Aurora. "Harry, it's okay. You need to stay still, please. It's for your safety, until we get someone to look at you," the blonde woman said between sobs, trying her best to sound soothing. Harry look at her blurry outline with wide eyes. What had he done to cause this reaction from the Greengrass family?

Then, it came to him. He had slept. His nightmares had haunted him once again and, due to his sleep deprivation combined with his general fatigue from the harrowing news Aurora and Gareth had for him, it caused him to sleep like a baby. If that baby had some mental connection to a deranged madman, and had seen a murder first-hand.

He began to cry silently as he mouthed something inaudible to Aurora. Immediately, he saw her rush forward with an empty glass in her hand, which she filled with water that streamed from her wand. She tilted it into his mouth and he gulped it down, feeling some immediate relief in his still aching throat. He looked up, finally able to speak. "I'm sorry, I woke you all up. How long was I asleep?"

Aurora looked worried. "Only four hours. Harry, we're going to call a Healer friend of ours, and we'll make sure you're okay, it'll be fine now."

Harry shook his head with a sad smile on his face. "I'm okay, Aurora. I just slept too long. Let me clean this up and you can all go back to sleep."

It was Gareth who next spoke, and to Harry's surprise he sounded extremely angry. "Slept too long? How the devil could four hours be too long, Harry?! Please tell me you have been sleeping." The patriarch of the Brass Heart stormed forward, fury in his eyes as he looked at the magically bound form of Harry. Harry's body jerked at the tone, a familiar one in his former house. "Do not tell me that James' only son thought it would be wise to live on no sleep at all. Even James would be horrified at this, and he was not one for sleep himself. Do not tell me you are such a fool that you-"

They must have seen the horrified look on Harry's face as Gareth's tirade was cut off by all three female members of the Greengrass family interrupting him, almost silently. His face had gone pale, even more so than before. His face was clammy and sweaty, and he was staring at Gareth in fear. He thought he had escaped this when Dumbledore took him away, but Gareth's tirade reminded him far too much of his previous caretakers. "I'm sorry…"

Gareth looked horrified, and Harry couldn't blame him. Harry had been nothing but trouble since he arrived. "Harry, I didn't mean… I'm sorry too, my boy. I only fear for your safety, your health. How long has this been going on?"

Harry looked down, partly in shock, partly in embarrassment. Vernon never apologised. Still, that anger was the same. He'd always tried honesty with them too, and it never worked. Perhaps this was going to be different? He mumbled his answer out. "Since the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Every night since."

He heard quick, retreating footsteps and looked up to see that Astoria had left abruptly. He was glad, she was far too young to have to deal with anything like this. For the first time, Harry was glad it was him who had been forced into this life. He could handle it, and was certain that others would not be able to. It shocked him that Daphne was still there. She stood beside his bed, straight-backed and unmoving. He could not see her face to read her emotions, however it was easy to imagine the flare of rage behind her cold eyes. But none of that mattered anymore. "Just, let me clean up my mess. Please. I have to."

With another short sob, Aurora waved her wand over the area where the partially digested soup had been left. "It's clean now, Harry. Just stay still and calm. Daphne? Could you go and call Paula for us, please? Tell her it is urgent."

As he looked over, Daphne was already nodding. Harry could feel her gaze piercing into him, her eyes not leaving him until it

That was also something new this summer, a rueful thought rose in his mind's sea of anxiety. Ever since Voldemort had been reborn, Harry had become better at reading people. Emotions that he used to not give a care about became something he studied intently and were, for the most part, easy to identify. But as he watched Daphne leave the room, he realised he had no idea what it was she was feeling.

And Harry was almost as terrified of the unknown as he was the known.

Aurora sat down on the sweat coated bed next to the still form of the Gryffindor teen. She reached forward and moved the hair out of his eyes. She then placed his glasses on his face, allowing him to see clearly. There was another emotion he had yet to identify in Aurora's eyes. Something close to the way Professor McGonagall looked at him when she thought he wasn't watching. Or the way Dumbledore looked at him earlier when he had forgiven him. But he still couldn't place what Aurora was showing. "If I lift the spell, will you stay in bed for me, dear?"

Harry nodded. He had no reason to not at this point. He had already figured out how the next few hours were going to go. The Greengrass' would be rid of him before the next dawn. As soon as they knew the full extent of his night terrors he would be out of another home. Still, homeless was better than Number 4, Privet Drive. At least he could live his own life.

A smile returned to her face, the first since he had awoken. She waved her wand, and Harry's body loosened. He sat up as he took a long draft of the water Gareth had replenished for him. He made to put his wand away, when he noticed something was off. He had seen it before, the metallic tip of his wand, and how it extended far further than his wand usually did. He picked up what was beside him in astonishment.

He could see his reflection slightly in the perfectly mirrored blade. There was no mistaking the rubies that were inset in the handle, pommel and hilt. The familiar golden handle with filigree and designs etched along it. And, the familiar name etched above the hilt. Godric Gryffindor.

How had the Sword of Gryffindor found its way back to him? Was that even possible without the Sorting Hat to pull it out of? Last he remembered, it was in its display case within the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

Then Harry remembered again. He placed the Sword down, almost throwing it, and looked fervently towards Aurora. "Please, you have to get Dumbledore. I have to tell him what I saw, please," he begged.

If possible, his godmother looked even more concerned. "Harry, what do you mean? You can tell me your bad dreams, or the Healer when she arrives."

"No! He needs to know. I should have told him already, but this is important now! I have to tell him, please!"

There was a small sound behind Gareth, that of a small cough. "Harry, I am already here."

Gareth whipped around, wand at the ready before he saw who it was. "Albus! How the devil did you get in here? The property wards should have made sure you couldn't apparate in here."

Harry saw that Albus' eyes were, once again, devoid of their usual magical charm. He had once again been crying. More importantly, his eyes never once locked with Harry's. "I never left, Gareth. I am sorry for the deception, I have been on the grounds since Harry was taken inside. After my last endeavour to keep him safe went so appallingly, I had to ensure your family would look after him. Now I see just how badly I have messed things up previously. And as it so happens, despite my shortcomings when it comes to Harry's life, you have done splendidly in helping him already. Aurora, Gareth, I thank you. If were up to me, I would have left already." Harry could hear the emotion in Dumbledore's voice, emotion he had heard earlier that day for the first time since they had met. He could see the tears welling in his eyes, the age showing on his wrinkled face. There was something disconcerting to Harry about seeing the old wizard being so forlorn.

Harry heard a cough, and watched as the saddened Headmaster made his way beside the bed. "But Harry says there is something I need to know, and I confess to wishing to converse with him myself." He looked towards Harry as he strode past Gareth, placing a hand on the Boy-Who-Lived's own. "What was it you saw, my boy?"

The terrified teenager looked into his Headmaster's eyes. For a second, Albus' eyes locked with Harry's. "Professor, I saw-"

All of a sudden, it returned. Not just the red-hot rage towards the Headmaster of Hogwarts, not just the anger and hatred for himself, but all of the thoughts and plans the Dark Lord had made for them. Harry began to seethe, and Albus must have seen this because he looked away, his face one of fear and disgust. Harry began to settle back down, the anger subsiding. "Perhaps, Harry, if what I believe to be true has happened tonight, it is best that you discuss this with me without making eye contact."

He knew. Dumbledore had already figured out there was a link between him and Voldemort. Of course, he knew. Harry slumped forward, dejected and broken. He had to phrase this in a way that didn't upset the Greengrass parents. "I was him, sir. He was angry, and destroyed his ancestor's gravestone. Then, he met the rat. They-" he sobbed, only just realizing he was crying. "Percy in in danger, sir. They have him."

He heard a deep intake of breath. "This is very important, Harry. I thank you for informing me. Now, please make sure you have remembered everything, Harry. Any detail could be imperative."

The tone the Professor took gave away very little of his emotion. He looked towards Aurora, who had her hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. Did she know what he was talking about? Did she believe that Voldemort was back?

A part of the dream came back to him, something he thought Dumbledore should know. "The rat said he had someone on the inside, and was going to use Percy to get to her. Someone who hates us, you and me." Harry was spent. He felt more tired now than he had at all over summer. It was a different type of tiredness than what he had been dealing with, but it was just as affecting.

"Very well, Harry. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will have to confirm that this is the truth, but for now I fear what you saw was real." He heard two gasps. They both knew. "I will confirm what I can before I inform his parents. Now Harry, I wish for you to meet with this Healer. Perhaps she will find some way to help you with this issue, even if just in the short-term so I can rectify it myself, if I am able to find a way. You have been alone far too long, young Harry." Without looking at him, Albus put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder that gave him a small modicum of hope. Hope that was bubbling with a small layer of anger at the man. "I will endeavour to ensure you are not alone in this."

"Farewell, Gareth, Aurora. It seems we both have long nights ahead of us. Take care. Of him, your daughters and yourselves." And with a small crack, the old Headmaster left the Brass Heart.

Before Aurora or Gareth could ask the many questions that it looked as if they wanted to ask, there were rushing footsteps from beyond the door, and a woman barged in with Daphne following closely behind.

The woman was slightly overweight – she made Harry think of a somewhat thinner Moly Weasley. Except she had long, blonde hair in a ponytail. She was wearing pale lime robes that bore a symbol of a snake curling around a staff. "Astoria?!"

The woman's eyes fell to him and widened even further. He was evidently not the patient she was expecting. He saw her eyes flick upwards towards his scar. "Harry Potter?! What the hell happened here?"

Aurora shook her head. "No time, Paula. Harry has just woken up from an awful dream, possibly a vision." She eyed him with eyes that held sadness and pity. "He needs help, he's been missing sleep. Apparently, it's been like this since Hogwarts was let out."

The Healer rushed to his side, allowing Aurora and Gareth to fill in what Harry had informed Albus he had seen, and his concerns that it was something real. "Bad dreams and visions? Well, I would normally attribute the nightmares to stress and trauma but, if he is truly seeing visions of what is occurring in the present, there could be something more nefarious in his system." She waved her wand over him, immediately setting to work. "Mister Potter, did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hit you with any curses?"

He jumped in his bed slightly at the question. "You believe me?"

She smiled. "I have no reason not to, Mister Potter. It is a fanciful story, for certain. But why lie about something this drastic? The Ministry's reasons for you and the Chief Warlock's lying are poppycock. So? Did he hit you with anything you didn't recognize?"

He shook his head. "Not really. He only cast the Unforgivables, but the Killing Curse missed. I fought of the Imperius."

She looked at him, stunned. "All three?" she queried worriedly, and he only nodded, not looking towards her. "And just a boy… Did he miss with the Cruciatus too, then?"

Harry's shudder was enough for her, and she growled. "And how did they help with exposure to the Cruciatus Curse at Hogwarts?! Poppy, Merlin bless her, has no idea how to treat for such ruthless magic. No wonder you can't sleep properly, Mister Potter. Let me check you over and we'll give you a Dreamless Sleep potion, hmm?"

He simply nodded. He had no way of attaining Dreamless Sleep at Number 4, as his contact to the magical world was almost non-existent. It only just now occurred to him how little Ron and Hermione had written over the summer. Sure, he hadn't been very verbose in his responses, but they usually would have written more themselves. He wondered why they weren't writing as much as usual.

Thoughts of his friends ran through his mind as the Healer, Paula, began to do what she called routine checks. After a few minutes, she looked at him shocked, before turning to Aurora. "Am I to believe that you are the magical guardian of this boy?"

To Harry's disbelief, she nodded. "Albus Dumbledore transferred magical guardianship to me last night and, due to him no longer living in the muggle world, Gareth and I will act as guardians in both worlds if needs be."

Paula nodded. "You'll want to stay for this conversation, then. Daphne, you should probably leave sweetie."

Harry hadn't noticed the dark-brown haired girl was still there. He looked to the doorway where she stood, looking at the Healer. "Aunt Paula, Potter is my... Intended." Harry choked on nothing as Paula jumped. It wasn't the full truth of the matter. But Harry understood not wanting people to know she was married to the target of the most dangerous wizard in the world, and all of his fanatical followers.

"How in the world did that happen? No wait," she motioned towards both Daphne and Aurora, "a long story? You will tell me once Mister Potter and I are done. Now, Mister Potter? I have some… Troubling news. Is it alright if your, uh, intended stays?"

Harry looked towards her. She had a thunder in her eyes he recognized from Hermione. She would not take no for an answer on this. Hoping Paula had not discovered what he feared she might, he nodded his acceptance.

"Fine. I will start with the less worrying, which is not to say it worries me any less. Mister Potter, it is nothing to be embarrassed about," as she began to speak to him in that tone, that tone of pity and calm he began to sit up straighter. "No, Harry, please. It's okay, it wasn't your fault."

Harry shook his head. "Daphne shouldn't hear this. None of you should. Please, don't tell them." He heard his own voice begging the Healer he had just met not to divulge this information. He sounded pitiful, broken. He was already crying.

She looked towards Daphne, who looked back with a fire that had mixed with the thunder in her eyes. Paula smiled reassuringly back at Harry. "I don't think we can get rid of her now, Mister Potter. And your guardians should be informed of this, so that we can begin to undo the damage that has been done. Okay?"

He wanted to run. To scream and cry and make sure they never knew. He grasped the hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor, ready to bolt. He had no idea why his first thought was the Sword and not his phoenix-feather wand. But there was something about the Sword that immediately calmed him. Somehow, the cold-looking metallic handle of the thin sword was warm to his touch. It felt soothing to him. That, and Paula's tone helped to convince him slightly that this information was necessary. He slumped back and, with a broken look in his eyes, nodded at the blankets on the bed.

Paula began, an authoritative tone to her already clipped voice. "Mister Potter's body shown signs of abuse. Severe abuse, of which I can date back to the age of five. The most recent injuries, lacerations to his back, have barely healed. These are only a few weeks old. He is malnourished, and his bones have quite bad deficiencies. Luckily, his magic is in fantastic form. I believe that it has been his magic that has been helping his body along in its healing. Even if they are poorly healed, the marks on his back have healed far too quickly to be normal human rate of healing."

There was silence in the room. Harry didn't dare look at any of the other inhabitants of the room, until he heard the sobbing from the direction of the doorway. He glanced over, shocked at the show of emotion from Daphne. He then realised it wasn't his apparent wife.

Astoria was standing behind her sister, her frail wiry form heaving with each cry. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the Boy-Who-Lived. He looked back, certain he looked a mess. He certainly felt like one.

He took a quick glance at Daphne. She looked livid, somehow even more so than when they had met several hours ago. Perhaps it was the same anger, but she wasn't trying to mask it. Not daring to see how the others were reacting, his eyes locked back on to the blankets.

"Astoria Olivia Greengrass!" Aurora nearly shouted at her youngest. "You were eavesdropping, weren't you?! I have taught you better!"

Her sobs continued in earnest and Harry stopped Aurora with a hand, never looking up from the bed. "She knows now. It's fine. She was just curious, and upset."

"Harry, this is a breach of your trust. She must be punished for this. Astoria, go to your room. I will come talk to you in a moment, once Harry has been dealt with."

Dealt with. What had she meant by that? Shipped off to whatever the magical hospital was, most likely. Perhaps she meant something more permanent, but Aurora Greengrass did not strike Harry as the sort of witch who would do that to him. But appearances could be deceiving.

He heard the sobbing girl leave as Paula sighed. "Poor thing. Already has so much to worry about. Perhaps she'll need some Dreamless Sleep too, Aurora. Maybe all of you, hmm?" She stopped for a moment and cleared her throat. "Now, none of the physical damage is permanent and we can begin fixing it immediately. I wouldn't expect major physical changes, Mister Potter. Perhaps a little taller, but anything non-bone will have to be trained without magic. Again, don't anticipate immediate drastic changes. For what it is worth, your body is in the best shape it could be, considering. Your muscles aren't too atrophied, but it is your stomach I am most concerned with at present."

She put a hand on his shoulder that was almost as calming as the Sword in his hand. "The older scars, from the abuse I mean, will stay, but we can deal with these nasty lacerations right now, if you'd like?" He nodded, too embarrassed to look anywhere but down and he felt the pain in his back he had all but forgotten about disappear. Despite himself, he sighed in relief. "There we are. I'll bring some potions to start him along in the morning. I think we can accelerate the healing for his stomach problems, it's far too small and will not allow for too much food at this time."

She sighed again. "Now, for the truly disturbing part. There is something… Foreign in you, Mister Potter. Something that doesn't belong, so to speak. In your scar, there's something dark. I can't identify it. But I believe its proximity to your mind, plus your magic's focus on healing the rest of your body, your mind has been left affected by whatever is up there. Hence, the dreams."

Harry was staring at her. Something in his scar? It was dark magic, apparently. Harry's best guess was Voldemort. Dumbledore had told him his theory about that night in Godric's Hollow. How his Killing Curse had failed, and it left the two connected somehow through his scar. But Harry hadn't really thought about too hard since then. What was the exact nature of this dark foreign piece of him?

His mind began to race. Whenever he was close to Voldemort, it was agonizing. His head would feel as though it would split in two. Was he going to be connected to Voldemort forever, and when they met again, how would Harry be able to overcome the immense pain to even stand up to him? The Priori Incantatem would only go so far, and Voldemort would be ready for such an inevitability.

He had to try. To train, to be better. He was only fourteen, fifteen soon. The Dark Lord wanted him dead, and after the previous failure he was certain to not play around with the Potter boy. If he wasn't ready with some form of defence, how could he ever hope to survive?

There was a small voice in the front of his mind. A tiny whisper, the same voice that he heard in his dreams. Why should he want to survive? Didn't he hate the Potter boy too? Why shouldn't he die? He shook his head to try and get rid of those thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, the high-pitched hiss-like voice would not stop it's taunting. And the more it spoke to him, the more it made sense. And the more that hissing voice began to sound like him.

Harry didn't hear the rest of the conversation as he stared into nothing, his mind reeling from his thoughts. He barely recognised someone tilting his head back as he tasted something familiar, and then all of a sudden all he knew was a calming purple.

* * *

**AN: It's been much longer than I anticipated, and both this and the next chapter are far longer than I originally intended them to be. I have a poor habit of staying up far too late writing these things, and an even worse habit of staying up later reading other's work.**

**Speaking of, I wish to recommend a story or two down here. Chances are many who are reading this have already read them, but I encourage you to read them both if you haven't already. Both feature one Daphne Greengrass prominently, so if this story is in your taste these may very well be too. One note, both stories are rated M, so do keep that in mind if you do not usually approach more mature writing.**

**The first is a story I have only found recently and immediately fell in love with, 'Harry Potter and the Vanishing Princess' by Strugglemuggle. It is unfinished as of now, but it is one of the more interesting concepts on this site. It tells such a different side to Daphne, something that isn't explored as interestingly in others. Please, do give it a try.**

**The second is by far one of my favourite stories I have read, fanfiction or otherwise. 'A Marriage of Convenience' by Dorothea Greengrass is far and away one of the most compelling, interesting and fascinating tales I've read. It manages to wrench my heart, pull me along and bring tears to my eyes. I do hope that, if you haven't already, you read through this in-progress story. I will be re-reading that available chapters very soon.**

**Once again, I thank you for your reviews and for reading my story. I fear the next chapter may get somewhat of a rewrite. I once again fear that my story's pace is far too quick, but my mind can rationalize the events that are happening and how swiftly they occur. We shall see.**

**Thanks!**

**Nighttmaire**


	4. Chapter 4: The Grass is Always Greener

Chapter 4: The Grass is Always Greener

Harry could feel that he had slept too long. Due to the consistent darkness that filled the room and it's drawn curtains, he found it difficult to figure out what the exact time was. He did know that he had not felt this level of calm since before the final task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, therefore he must have had an extended period of sleep. Harry's blurry vision retained an element of the purple hue for a few moments, as he reached for his glasses on the bed-side cabinet to his right. He slid the spectacles onto his nose and tried to blink the purple haze from his eyes.

It was the first time he really had a look at the room he had been placed in. It was a similar design to the rest of the house – the walls were the same deep red, a wood that Harry found oddly soothing. It was strange, the house seemed dark and dreary by design but there was a sense of care to the polish on the walls and the floor that allowed Harry to imagine that the house was well cared for. And he was used to an entire common room with red walls, even if it was much more subtle in the Brass Heart, so it helped put his mind at ease. As he glanced around the room and its understated bronze trim around the skirting boards at the base of the walls, something else shimmered in his vision and grabbed his attention.

Sitting by itself, leaning against the wall opposite the door that was slightly ajar, was the shining metallic Sword of Gryffindor. The appearance of the Sword still boggled him. He hadn't thought to ask Professor Dumbledore about it, as there were more pressing matters at the time. But the blade appearing in his hands was peculiar, to say the least. Not to mention the feeling of calm that overtook his mind when he held it in his hand the previous night. There were too many unanswered questions to do with the heirloom of Godric Gryffindor, and he wasn't going to get them lying in bed.

He began to stand up, marvelling at the comfort the bed had given him. Neither of his regular beds were this comfortable, not even the one he slept in at Hogwarts. Something to look in to – there had to be a charm to allow his bed to be softer while he slept. That Gryffindor mattress was far too hard on his back.

As he moved to the door, he unconsciously scratched at where his Uncle had left his mark weeks ago. He sighed as he felt the ends of one of the lines on his back. Now they knew, and for some reason he was still within the Greengrass home. Perhaps they wished to inform him of his impending removal? That was possible. A thought did occur to him, one that was alone in his mind for a brief moment.

What if they weren't getting rid of him?

As far as Harry's logic would lead him, that was almost impossible. All of his reason told him that their lives would be better without him. From Aurora's sadness, to Gareth's anger and Astoria's sadness and fear, not to mention her apparent other problems, it was best he wasn't there to make matters worse. Besides, there was absolutely no way Daphne wanted him around. And he didn't blame any of them, really. If he was honest, he didn't want to be a burden on them either.

Harry left the room, still rubbing his eyes as the purple that coated his vision continued to fade, and was shocked by what he found. Just outside his doorway, he saw a pair of slumbering teenage girls. Daphne and Astoria were wearing flannel pyjamas as they sat with their backs to the wall, huddled together and asleep. As he stood there watching the two sisters holding each other, he smiled slightly. Were they here for him? They must have been worried, and stayed here to ensure his safety. He did not doubt the possible kindness of Astoria, but that level of concern did not seem as though it would fit the personality of her much colder sister. Still, why else would they sleep in such uncomfortable positions? His smile widened. Even if he was leaving soon, the possible worry for him was sweet.

The teen started to walk past the sleeping duo, but realised he had no idea which way he was supposed to go. He had a desperate need for the restroom. He could stumble his way through the house, but thought the better of it. He took a deep breath and gently shook Daphne's shoulder, hoping to not wake Astoria yet.

After a moment, her clear blue eyes fluttered open slowly and looked towards the opened door, before her eyes shifted to the young man with his hand still on her shoulder. Her face lit up for a second, before she relented back to her usual non-committal gaze. "Oh, good. You're awake."

Harry recoiled, his hand leaping back to his side as he stood up straight. "Uh, yeah. I need to use the toilet and don't know where I'm going. So…"

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. "Right. Yes, that makes sense. Here, follow me," she offered, and began to stand up before she noticed her sister's head leaning against her. The corners of her mouth curled into an ever-so-slight smile. "Astoria should be awake anyway." The eldest of the two gently shook her slumbering sister's shoulder. "Come on, Tori. He's up, and he needs to be shown to the bathroom." Harry didn't know what to expect from Daphne, but the care she showed her sister was comforting to him. Perhaps she could be somewhat understanding of his situation.

After a few seconds, the smaller girl looked around the hallway blearily, spotting him as she rubbed at her right eye. All of a sudden, Astoria jumped up to her feet and, as soon as she saw the upright Harry Potter, ran up to him and hugged him tightly. Harry stiffened in her arms, looking strangely at Daphne who just cocked her head to the side. "Harry! I'm sorry I was listening last night, I was just… I felt awful that I ran and I wanted to apologise and when I ran back to say sorry Aunt Paula was talking about what happened. I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry smiled and gave her a light pat on her shoulder. "It's okay, Astoria. I meant what I said. If someone was screaming in the middle of the night and woke me up, I'd be curious too."

She shook her head, laughing lightly. "It wasn't curiosity, really. I was worried is all."

At this point, she released her grip on his waist and backed off from him, faint tears in her eyes. Harry shook his head. "Thanks for the concern, Astoria. But I was fine, honest. I'm glad that Daphne and your parents were there to help, and that your Aunt was able to figure out something was wrong. But I've been dealing with this for a while now, there's nothing to worry about."

Harry heard a light scoff, and glance over at Daphne. She was scowling at him, and then turned her nose at him. "Well, if the next time I try and help you during a horrific experience such as that, you'd better not threaten me with that damn Sword." She sniffed, and Harry felt his face grow hot as he nodded his head.

"You're right, Daphne." Taking a deep breath and screwing up his courage, he walked over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It was instinct, and I'll be honest I have no idea why I even have the Sword. But it was wrong, and it could have hurt you. I'm sorry if I scared you or upset you." He watched as her emotionless stare turned towards him, unreadable as ever. Ignoring the giggling from behind him, he pressed on. "I can't promise it won't happen again, since I'm never rational when I wake from those sorts of things. But, if you're ever in that position again, do whatever it takes to protect yourself. Even from me."

Daphne's mask of indifference slipped for a moment. If Harry hadn't received his new gift for reading the emotions on others faces, he may not have even noticed it. For a brief moment, the girl had dropped her façade and showed two prominent emotions – surprise, and fear.

In a blink, her mask was back up and she nodded solemnly. "Yes, well. I will know what to expect from you next time and, even if you do threaten me, I will be prepared."

Harry smiled and nodded, before his grin turned into a frown, his eyes brimming with sadness. "On second thought, I wouldn't worry too much. From what I can imagine, it won't be an issue for too much longer."

For a brief moment he had forgotten. His mind had been so involved in conversing and socialising that it had pushed away the fact that after last night he was probably not long for the Brass Heart. It wasn't all bad, he supposed. Certainly, Aurora and Astoria were kind enough to him. Gareth seemed much harder to read, his anger had been overwhelming yet familiar, even if the immediate care he had shown was odd. But that was nothing compared to the confusion he felt in regard to Daphne.

The girl was so closed off, even around her family. The only emotions he had seen were brief snippets, some of which were identifiable yet others were something strange he didn't recognise, and her rage at her parents. The unrecognisable look in her eyes seemed slightly familiar to him, but he had no idea what it was. Harry had no idea how to approach her. The standoffish attitude she held made her snide comments annoy and irritate him – potentially due to her similarity to the way Snape acted – not to mention that it made her seem like a younger, cuter version of his Aunt Petunia. But when he got to see the softer side of Daphne, particularly with how she treated Astoria, it made him see that perhaps there was more to people than their first impressions.

The look Daphne gave him after his last statement held a trace of emotion, one that he recognised from his own face after a particularly horrific night's dream, or what he saw in his eyes in his mirror after the events in the Graveyard of Little Hangleton. Fear. He shook his head, not blaming her fear of him. He sighed. "The bathroom, then?"

Daphne nodded, refusing to meet his eyes again. They walked in silence towards the bathroom, with Astoria taking the lead. Harry kept looking towards Daphne, whose face was still schooled into an impassive façade. He was certain it wasn't real, he had seen her true feeling behind it far too many times now. The smile he had seen when she awoke Astoria made her already rather pretty face even more radiant. Harry tried his hardest to push those thoughts from his head, unwilling to think of her that way. It was far too awkward.

He still couldn't fathom it. The beautiful girl walking beside him through the dark halls was his wife. She had been for years, and she had never told him. Of course, he knew why she hadn't. But still, she could have mentioned it at some point. Just because she had been told not to didn't mean she had to follow those orders.

There were multiple times where he and the eldest of the Greengrass sisters had been forced to partner up in Potions. Harry seemed to recall that she treated him with cold indifference, and had not spoken to him at all other than to give directions in the subject which she was vastly superior to him in. Her attitude was clear as day, now that the Boy-Who-Lived thought on it. She had known back then, and was expecting him to approach her.

He was about to ask her a question that had been on the back of his mind for a while, but Astoria spoke before he could. "Here you are, Harry! We're going to go and clean up, meet us for breakfast in the dining room afterwards, 'kay?"

Harry smiled and nodded. The two girls left, Daphne turning to look at him strangely. It seemed she wanted to say something to him, but she looked down at the floor before turning away. As the girls turned a corner, Harry let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding, then entered the room before him.

The room he had entered was a dark and warm as the rest of the house. Dark tiles covered the floor, and the walls seemed to be inexplicably made of a deep red stone. The sinks and bathtub that were inside matched the stone aesthetic, a direct contrast to the wood that was prominent throughout the home. He noted a shower before he rushed to the toilet, desperation taking over his curiosity.

After roughly half an hour, Harry Potter was fully refreshed and washed up. He had to rush back to his room to look for clothes to wear before he showered, but eventually the raven-haired boy made his down the large staircase to where he heard a conversation happening between the four members of the household. He couldn't make out what they were saying, he was simply glad that he found the right place so quickly.

As he moved closer to the door, he saw his outstretched hand was shaking. Somehow, he hadn't even noticed his own worry as he made his way down for breakfast. Harry's body had locked into place, his hand centimetres from the door handle. Anxiety began to bite at his chest, his stomach dropping at the same time. His breathing had become laboured. He couldn't figure out where his instant fear had sprung from, but he could not seem to get control over it as a cold wash of fear dripped down his entire body.

He heard a person beyond the door walk towards where he was standing, and a muffled call of "Harry?" He tried to respond, but he couldn't find his voice. His frozen state worsened, as the hissing voice began to whisper to him.

"They will get rid of you at the firssst moment posssssible, Potter… They already have ssso much to deal with, why would they take care of a pathetic freak like you… You should jussst sssave them the trouble and leave."

Harry sucked in a quick, short breath as his hand jerked away from the doorknob, and he began to shudder. Did they see him as a freak?

Freak. Of all of the words Harry was privy to within the English language, that had become one of his most detested. It was the name his Uncle had given him, one that his Aunt spat toward him with such venom it would make even Snape gasp. It was the word he heard over and over when he was younger. And when one is told something that often, they tend to start believing it.

Then Harry found out about the wizarding world, and why his relatives thought him a freak. Finally, he had found a place to fit in – a place where he could be a normal child for once. But those dreams were swiftly dashed as Hagrid revealed his true origin to him.

The only known survivor of the Killing Curse. The infant who managed to defeat the Dark Lord. Everywhere he went, people thought they knew him. They thought that they had a right to a piece of him, a piece of his very being. In this new world, he was a celebrity. A new kind of freak.

And now, both worlds had collided. His godmother knew of his past, of what had been done to him. He thanked his lucky stars that the damage was easy to fix, but he still hated that a magical family now knew of his muggle past, at least the parts he'd rather hide. They also knew of his night terrors, and what they did to him. He would be even more of a freak to them.

Add to this the compounding issues with Daphne and his continuing lack of control over his own life, not to mention the alien voice in his head that wouldn't shut up, and all of a sudden everything became far too overwhelming for the fourteen-year-old.

In a panic, Harry turned from the door and ran. He hadn't run away from what terrified him since he was sorted into Gryffindor. But the troll, Quirrell, the basilisk, a mass-murderer, a werewolf and a Dark Lord didn't frighten him like this. Everything that had happened washed over him at once, and it broke his core like nothing else had. He began to sob as he rushed towards the stairs. As he climbed the stairs two at a time, he heard the door he was running from slam open and someone call out after him, but he did not dare stop. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sprinted harder than he ever had before to the room he had been sleeping in.

He had to get out. He felt confined, trapped. Not just his body, but his very being felt as though a great weight was crushing it from the outside in. Harry rushed to pack his things away, stuffing his filthy clothes he had slept in away in his Hogwarts trunk. For a moment, he glanced over at the gleaming blade of the Sword in his room, before he stuffed it in the trunk too. For that brief second of wielding the Sword Harry's panic left him, but that sense of fear swiftly overtook the calm rationale the weapon gave him and the scrambled through his school possessions to find one of his father's heirlooms.

He had just begun to pull out his invisibility cloak when the door swung open wildly. Harry looked over in fright to see five figures looking at him. He hadn't time to see the emotion in the eyes of the Greengrass family or the healer, Paula – he had to get away. He moved to pull the cloak over his still shivering body, but it was pulled away from him by Daphne. He grimaced and wrenched it in his hands, trying desperately to regain his father's cloak. He looked at the girl who had stopped him as he pulled and tugged against her, and he saw he was winning the impromptu tug-of-war.

She looked at him, her feelings clear on her face for more than a brief moment for the first time since he had arrived. She was scared, and worried. At the moment, Harry didn't really care as he finally pulled the cloak free from her grasp. She stumbled and almost fell, catching herself on the bed as he ducked away from her. It was obvious his years spent running from Dudley's gang, combined with his experience on a broom, would make him far faster than anyone here. He turned and pulled the shimmering magical cloth over him, and moved as swift as possible to grab his trunk – which was now firmly in the hands of Gareth Greengrass.

"Give me my trunk."

He jumped. Was that really his voice? Harry hadn't meant to sound so menacing. The hiss that he heard underneath it was equally terrifying. Still, whatever threat his mind thought it was making ultimately did not work, as Gareth simply waved his wand over the trunk's handle.

"I am going to keep a hold on this while we sort out what has happened here, Harry." His voice was unflinching as he stared at where Harry's cold threat had come from. The emotionless look on Gareth's face reminded Harry of his daughter's usual countenance. Harry growled, and made a dive for his possessions but no matter how hard he pulled the trunk wouldn't budge. Gareth must have used a spell to stick it to his hand. Harry kept tugging and pulling, growling louder as he tried to wrench the trunk free.

It was when the Greengrass man yelped in pain and there was a simultaneous popping sound that Harry snapped back to reality. Still invisible, he looked up to see the man who had been friends with his father, the man who had not only offered, but been ecstatic, to take him in, holding his dislocated right shoulder with his left hand.

The cloak slid off Harry, his left hand covering his mouth in horror. The room was silent, barring the grunts of agony from Gareth Greengrass before Paula managed to pull herself together and wave her wand over his arm a few times. The teen boy could not believe what he had done.

Not once in his entire life had he meant to hurt someone like this. He had only ever fought to protect others, or to defend his own life. But here he was, so desperate and selfish that his anger caused him to hurt a man who only meant to protect him, a man who Albus Dumbledore had trusted with Harry's life.

"Potter, that isssn't true, isss it? Think about poor Quirinusss Quirrell, Harry… He wasss in agony and you grasssped his face to kill him… You've alwaysss been this monssster…"

The tears began to flow in earnest. He didn't want to kill Professor Quirrell. He'd only acted in self-defence. The body that held the parasite known as Lord Voldemort was trying to kill him, and he acted to save his own life.

"Then why not just let him burn asss he wasss already? Why did you lash out and go for the head, Potter? And thossse thoughtsss you have of Wormtail… What you would do to him if you found him before anyone elssse… Not onccce have thossse thoughtsss left a body behind… You are a killer, Missster Potter… A killer and a freak…"

Harry didn't hear whatever it was that Aurora was trying to say to him. Both hands were over his mouth now, tears pooling around them as he stared into oblivion. He didn't know if he was breathing or not, he couldn't tell through his shocked stupor. The voice was right. He had killed Quirrell, and he had been daydreaming for over a year about what he wished to do to Peter Pettigrew. The things he had dreamt of, the spells he wished he could cast on the poor excuse of a Gryffindor were horrific. The only thoughts he had that were similar were those that Voldemort had for himself and Dumbledore.

Voldemort.

Harry shuddered again. Of course. This voice, the connection. It was all him. Whatever it was, he could hear Voldemort's influence in his mind right now. The world around him was a quick shifting of dark hair and blue eyes as he felt his body be moved around, his arms locked in place as he stayed in his state of shock. All his ears could perceive was a constant ringing, but he could hear the hissing in his mind once again.

"We are ssso sssimilar, Harry Potter. I wasss consssidered a freak asss a child too. But now, I am ssso much ssstronger than they could have ever imagined. All I needed wasss to show them my power. Show them, Harry. You have the power inssside you, to show thessse people who you really are, deep down."

He shook his head. He would never do that. He never could. Just hurting Gareth like he did drove him to the brink of reason, but doing what the Voldemort in his head was asking? He could not kill these people.

The voice began to laugh, a high-pitched cackle that haunted Harry so much already. "Yesss you can, Potter… Kill thessse foolsss… End their missserable exissstanccce… Join usss, Harry… You have been chosssen…"

His entire body was shivering. The voice was beginning to make sense. And, once again, it lost that essence of Voldemort and began to sound more and more like his own. The next voice he heard was his one he used against Gareth. A cold, menacing edge accenting his normal voice.

"They don't understand us, Harry. Who could? The suffering, the torment. The loneliness. The world is made for us to suffer. No one will ever understand us, no one will care for us. No one will ever be able to truly love a freak like us, Harry. Do it. End it."

The trembling wouldn't stop. As his own demented voice continued to attempt it's influence over him, he felt his control slipping. The world began to fade away, his vision becoming a faraway pinpoint in his own eyes. The world around him was dark, a void that surrounded the last portion of his sight. He couldn't stop himself as he felt his arm begin to move its way towards his back pocket, to find his wand.

Horror filled his mind as he felt the rage that filled his body at the protectors of Harry Potter. The thoughts of what would happen to the fools who dared to hide the Potter runt from his grasp filled his mind and he began to weep, knowing that all of the Greengrass family were in immediate danger from himself, and he could do nothing to stop it.

The images of his immediate future began to flood his mind, one half of him sorrowful and the other ecstatic at the thought of Aurora's body still and unmoving, just like his mother's. He saw Gareth running and stumbling as the flash of green took his life from him, and a vision of the sobbing Astoria begging for her life as he laughed cruelly before that eminence of green once again filled his thoughts. The image of the ever-stoic Daphne, tears streaking down her still emotionless face as he stalked towards her, the Killing Curse being whispered in his voice as she fell to the ground dead. Then, he saw Hermione's lifeless face. Ron's immobile body. A younger redhead, Ginny, lying face down, her body still and pale. Neville with blood pooling underneath him, facedown and motionless. All of the Weasley family dead, shocked looks on their frozen faces. Professor Lupin's scarred visage even more mangled. The cold, empty eyes of Sirius Black. All of these images were accompanied by the cackle of Voldemort in his own laugh, that he heard coming from his own mouth.

Harry had begun to lose all hope. His own weakness would cause more people to lose their lives, and for all intents and purposes it was him who was killing innocent people. As he watched his wand rise to Aurora's face, she looked back at him in shock. He knew what was coming, the words had already echoed around his mind. She would be dead in a heartbeat, never knowing what had happened. Just like Cedric.

Harry Potter had failed.

That's when he saw it. A face in front of his. He felt her hands on either side of his face, worry evident in her light blue eyes. Her entire façade had fallen, now showing the concern and fear on her pretty face. She had tears pooling below her eyes as she looked deep into his. He felt his breath hitch as the cackling stopped.

"Harry. Please, stop."

The cold void around him began to fade away, his vision zooming its way back to his eyes. He felt the warmth return to his face and body, and immediately stopped shaking. His mind was filled with nothing but gratitude for the girl who had saved him, and her family, from himself.

In his mind, he heard the Dark Lord scream. "Noooooo!" it cried as he stared into the eyes of Daphne, and he felt a strange feeling in the scar on his forehead. His wand fell to the floor as he began to weep once more, his prominent scar tingling as he continued to look towards her.

"Thank you, Daphne."

She seemed taken aback by this, her face flushed red as she let go of his head and began to wipe away her tears. He grabbed her by the shoulder as she began to turn away from him. As she turned back, he did something he had hardly done before, not even with Hermione.

His arms were around her, holding her tight as he cried. All he could do is repeatedly thank the Greengrass girl. Harry had no explanation for how she had saved him, but it had worked. After a few moments, he heard her own sob as she returned the hug, her grasp much lighter than his own. After a few minutes, his relentless gratefulness had stopped and he let go of her. He felt little shame as Harry pulled her from him, maintaining eye contact and holding her by the shoulders in place. "I have no idea what you did, Daphne. But you saved me."

The room was silent as the other members of the house watched on. Daphne shook her head in response. "I had to do something. I'm sure anyone else could have done it." Her face was still red, and she had yet to return to her calm mask that she usually wore around him.

Harry smiled with tears still in his eyes, and held her arms tighter. "My connection, this thing in my head was taking over. It had won, and it was going to… You and your family were in grave danger." He couldn't bear to think on what the other part of him had planned, it made him ill just to remember as his eyes began to tear up even more. "If it wasn't for you, I would have lost myself entirely to him," he elaborated further, his voice full of awe.

Her blush had deepened as he continued. "It wasn't the thought of your mother who saved me. It wasn't Hermione, or Ron or anyone else." Harry was excited, but made sure that he didn't mention Sirius. "It was you, Daphne."

He quickly hugged her again. "Thank you so much. You have no idea…" He let go of her, still smiling. Her face was as red as it was before, but she had a smile plastered on her face. Harry had yet to see Daphne smile. It was far better than the scowl she usually wore, or the sadness he had seen in her eyes just minutes prior.

He turned to the three adults, who were looking towards him and Daphne in shock. Harry's smile left his face as he thought back to the events, his gaze dropping down as the shame took him. "I am so sorry, Gareth. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Shaking himself, Gareth smiled towards him. His smile looked genuine. "No real harm done, Harry. Paula healed me up swiftly, it's as if it never even occurred."

Harry nodded, still filled with his guilt. He looked to Daphne, who had stood beside him as he addressed the adults. She was looking anywhere but him, seemingly ashamed. He smiled at her even though he was certain she didn't notice. He then snapped his head around to find Astoria, sure she would be frightened of him. Instead, she was looking towards her sister with a strange look on her face, something Harry could not easily place. It looked similar to when Hermione had solved a particularly difficult question. He shook his head and looked towards the stunned Healer.

"This thing in my head. I don't want to wait for my magic to help defend it, it needs to be out of my system. This cannot happen again. How do we do that?" he queried, desperate. He never wanted to have this occur. If it were to happen again, and Harry had no one around capable of whatever it was that Daphne had done, it could be catastrophic.

All three adults had begun to recover, and Paula looked at him solemnly. "I agree with that assessment, Mister Potter. Unfortunately, there isn't much of a known precedent for this sort of thing. I would argue the closest condition I can think of is possession, and I must admit, based on what you told Daphne and the symptoms that were shown it definitely seems like that is a part of this. But whatever is in there feels like it's a leech, a parasite of sorts."

She looked at Aurora and pursed her lips. "I would argue for his placement in Saint Mungo's, if he were anyone else. I fear him being admitted there would be cause for alarm within the magical populace," she explained as both Aurora and Gareth nodded. Silently, Harry agreed. He assumed Saint Mungo's was the wizarding hospital, and as much as he wanted this thing out of his head he would rather not go there. "Besides, assuming that he and the Chief Warlock are telling the truth he should not leave the premises for extended periods."

Harry stiffened. Did she admit he was right about the return of Voldemort? Or was the Healer just taking into account all of the possibilities? Harry had no chance to ask as he watched his godmother smile and nod. "No, you are right. He is safest here, with us. What do you suggest, Paula?"

A smile returned to Paula's face. "First of all, it would be for the best if you have a Healer on hand here. With all that has happened here within the past twenty-four hours, combined with the stress I am certain poor Astoria is under, I feel I should remain here until we cure Mister Potter's condition. As such, Tracey should probably stay here with us too." She looked at her watch. "The boss is probably not busy, I'll let them know I'm taking leave for this. I'll leave names out of course. Just a family emergency."

As Aurora smiled and nodded, he heard a small noise from beside him. It sounded like a cross between a squeak and a sob. He glanced at Daphne quickly who looked torn. She noticed his eyes on her and looked away from him. He sighed inwardly, hoping he had not done something wrong. Her continued presence at his side indicated that wasn't the case, but he was still worried.

"But of course, your daughter can stay too. I suppose you need to research? If needs be, use the Greengrass library here. It has many tomes you would be hard pressed to find elsewhere," Gareth smiled. "I will check in at work myself. I'm certain we will have something that will help us – the issue is finding it. We have books and tomes all over the place down there." Harry had no idea what Gareth was talking about, as he was unaware of Gareth's job. He assumed, based on previous discussion, that he had a similar role to Lucius Malfoy in that he spent time at the Ministry with the Wizengamot. It seemed he had a different job outside of that. The conversation went on, the adults discussing which books could hold the information they were looking for while Daphne continued her staring contest with the floor, and Astoria kept alternating a smirking glance between her sister and the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry had an idea, and waited for a beat of silence to tell them.

"We could ask Professor Dumbledore if he knows anything about it. If anyone would know what it was without having a book, it would be him," he interjected. Aurora looked at him sadly, but smiled and nodded.

"Yes, he might be able to help. I'm sure he'll want to fix this as quick as possible, too. We definitely don't want an episode like this at Hogwarts." Harry hadn't even thought of Hogwarts, he realised. He nodded, slightly stunned at his lack of foresight. He could easily blame it on what had just happened, of course. But he definitely didn't want this to happen in the Gryffindor dorms.

Paula looked at the boy, grinning slightly. "A good idea, Mister Potter. Is there anyone else who could know how to help with this? Anyone who may have an idea of what this thing is?" she asked, her voice short but warm. It reminded him of Professor McGonagall, without the trademark Scottish accent. Paula's was a somewhat refined British accent which fit in within the others in the house, barring himself.

After thinking on it for a few moments, Harry had thought of some people who could help him. One he couldn't talk about, but he was certain his favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts professor would inform his godfather of his problem. "I have two ideas; I could write them both? Our former Professor, Remus Lupin might know something of this. He's really well versed in this sort of thing, I think. And the other is a Gringotts Curse-Breaker, Bill Weasley. He's worked on breaking curses in Egypt for the goblins, he may be familiar with magic like this." He smiled at her his trademark lopsided grin. "And please, ma'am. Call me Harry."

She nodded, a wider smile on her face. "Both wonderful choices, Harry. Considering your…" Her gaze trailed towards Daphne who had just begun to calm herself. "Relationship with my niece, you are family. Call me Paula, then. Or Aunt Paula." The last statement was accompanied by a wink, causing Harry's face to flush.

"I'll write them as soon as I can, Paula. Thank you for this. I'm sorry that you're taking time off and having to be away from your home for me. I'm sure it isn't worth the trouble you're going to."

Her response was a bright, warm smile that made Harry immediately feel at ease. "Nonsense, Harry! I'm happy to be of help, especially for family. I'll go and pack, and bring Tracey tonight. We'll be back for dinner, Aurora." She moved forward and gave Daphne and Harry brief hugs. As per usual, Harry stiffened at her initially but followed it with an awkward pat on her back, which he assumed was better than nothing. She moved over to Astoria and hugged the younger teen before she said her farewells to Aurora and Gareth before making to leave. As she made for the fireplace in the sitting room, she turned back to the eldest of the Greengrass girls. "Oh, Daphne? It's important Harry does not have another incident like this, understood? Healer's orders." She winked at her and left.

Harry was confused, and looked towards the girl at his side. She was beet red, and stammering nonsense. "What did she mean by that?"

Aurora placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at her as she grinned at the two. "Healer Davis just ensured you won't be taken over again, Harry. Since my daughter seemed to bring you back, it's probably for the best that the two of you stay near each other until this is sorted."

"Mother!"

Both Aurora and harry snapped their attention at the blushing teen. "Do you really think it appropriate? We hardly know each other, and I hardly think Potter would enjoy my company anyway."

Harry laughed a little. "So, I'm Potter again?"

She looked at him, an odd look in her eyes. "Of course. It is your name."

"And yours!"

The younger voice startled the room. Both teens stiffened and glanced at the giggling Astoria. Harry felt the heat rise in his face once more as she continued to laugh. He heard Daphne once again begin to stumble over her words. "What, sister? You are married, aren't you?"

Daphne, still rooted to her spot beside him began to snarl. "Astoria, stop it."

The younger Slytherin did not seem to hear the threat from her sister. "I mean, you should be by his side anyway. Don't you think, Missus Potter?"

Harry watched as Astoria began to run, but Daphne didn't make to run after her. She instead just growled loudly after her, her rage almost releasing in a screech before Harry stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. As she looked up at him the anger in her face faded, replaced with shame and embarrassment. Despite his own blush, he smiled.

"The little menace has a point. We need to get to know each other, if we're stuck in this together. We are," his blush deepened, "married. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I didn't know. If I did, we would have had this conversation years ago."

"It wasn't your fault no one told you, Potter. It rests on the goblins and Dumbledore. And my parents, and me too I suppose," she muttered. "So, I'm sorry too."

"I don't blame you. Not fully. From what I can tell, you wanted to talk to me but was told to wait for me to approach you."

She nodded. "I guess."

There was a brief silence as both teens looked awkwardly around the room. It seemed as though Daphne's parents had left them to have some privacy. And probably to go and berate the younger of the girls, since she had butt in when it was unwarranted. Harry decided to speak up.

"I think maybe Paula was right, too."

She looked at him strangely, her eyes questioning him. He smiled. "I've been so mad and angry ever since the end of last year. And I've been so tired. There's been this sense of anxiety within me for what feels like forever. The only times I've felt calm since then was when I held the Sword, which I cannot explain, and when you've been near me. Which somehow makes even less sense to me."

Harry had hoped his words would help to calm her down, but he wasn't expecting the small smile on her face. She then let out a small laugh. It was short, and quiet but somehow, Harry though it was one of the most wonderful sounds he had ever heard.

It was much later that day when Harry and Daphne stood side-by-side, waiting on the arrival of Paula and her daughter, Tracey. Daphne had explained to Harry how she and her fellow Slytherin were related on their mother's side, as Paula and Aurora were sisters. It made sense since they called her Aunt, but the two women didn't share many similarities from what Harry could recall.

She also explained that Tracey was her best friend, as well as her cousin. As they talked, Harry found that Daphne was a far easier girl to talk to than she originally seemed. It was still incredibly awkward to spend time with his now wife, especially since he had no prior idea of how to talk to girls outside of Hermione and the girls on the Quidditch team. Whenever he tried to talk to Ginny, she was either too embarrassed or, as was the unfortunate case in her first year, pre-occupied with more pressing, dangerous matters. His attempts with Cho Chang had never borne fruit, much to his continued dismay. Not to mention his disaster with Parvarti Patil at the Yule Ball. Merlin, he would have to apologise to the girl. He'd been an awful date. Still, it further proved his inexperience with the opposite sex.

So, he mostly talked to her in the same way he would his best female friend. He talked to her about what she enjoyed, and tried to get to know her a bit better through that. She was closed off, as he knew he was too. But still, he was told a few things.

Harry found out that Daphne was a model student in almost every field except for Defence, where she barely scraped by with an Acceptable pretty much every year, and Transfiguration which she was on the brink of failing. She avoided the subject of flying, not answering any of his questions regarding his favoured pastime directly. However, she did admit that she enjoyed watching Quidditch when the Slytherin team wasn't playing. "Not only are they dirty cheats who bought their way onto the team, the don't accept female players. Some of the girls could fly circles around those morons," she huffed as Harry laughed heartily, nodding in agreement.

He was most surprised to learn that Daphne was a near prodigy at Potions. She described her ability with a cauldron as similar to him on a broom – everything was just natural and made sense. She recalled their first flying lesson, where poor Neville had broken his arm and Harry had stood up to, as she called him, "the self-righteous egotistical unbearable idiot, Malfoy", which Harry had found hilarious. The last thing they had talked about before they went to wait for the other visitors was about the morale and climate within the Slytherin Common Room.

"Honestly, that surprises me. He acts like he owns the damn place, I figured he'd have a lot more control in your house."

Daphne shook her head. "Not as of yet, no. His father buying Draco's way into the Slytherin team certainly helped him feel important, but many of the older students manage to keep him in line. We may have fewer muggleborns and half-bloods, but they still make up a quarter of our house in its entirety. The prefects and seventh-years have done well to quell his nonsense, but now that he's older and that the Dark Lord has returned, I fear he'll be in a far better position within Slytherin house."

Harry had looked at her immediately, stunned by her last point. "You believe me?"

She smiled reservedly, but before she could answer Astoria had burst into the room, face full of smiles. "Trace's gonna be here in a few minutes! Come on, Harry! I can't wait to see her face when she sees you here!"

For someone so young and thin, Astoria pulled him away from his seat on the couch they were sitting on and pulled him out the door. He watched as Daphne rushed to keep up with them, her face schooled once again in her mask of indifference. But Harry could see the mirth in her eyes as he was pulled along by her younger sister.

That was how the raven-haired Gryffindor found himself standing beside both Greengrass girls, one with a face of stone and the other smiling widely as she held onto Harry's arm. When she originally linked her arm in his, Harry's entire body had stiffened instantly, but soon calmed down. He knew that she was trying to shock her cousin, and being on the arm of the Boy-Who-Lived would certainly achieve that. When she had whispered her plan to him, he burst into laughter and endeavoured his best to ensure that it looked as natural as possible.

That wasn't too difficult. The three were standing there for about fifteen minutes waiting, and the entire time Astoria talked to Harry as if they were old friends. She told tales of her and Daphne's youth, much to Daphne's chagrin. The boy had noticed that Daphne seemed less controlled than usual. Not in the same way she was when they were talking, but instead her face revealed her anger towards her sister. He hoped he hadn't exacerbated that anger with his occasional laughs at her sister's stories.

He didn't have any further time to ruminate on Daphne's mood, as the fireplace flared with an emerald green that, for a moment, reminded Harry of the visions he had earlier. He found it strange that he had been able to recover from the mental attack so quickly, on top of his episode that night. He shouldn't feel as comfortable as he did. There was something at work that was keeping him calm, and rational. As Paula walked out of the Floo, smirking at the three, Harry quickly stole a glance at Daphne.

It was her that had stopped him earlier. Plus, she was the only person who had been near him all day. His wand and the Sword remained in his room, and Astoria had given them space until minutes ago. It had to be her presence. But how could that be? The amount of gratitude he felt for the Slytherin was incredible, but it was the underlying feeling that went with them that scared him.

What was it that Harry had felt when she had brought him back from the brink?

He shook his head slightly and looked at the once again flaring green fire, ready to help Astoria shock their cousin. He had a small grin on his face as he watched a somewhat familiar blonde stumble her way out of the fireplace.

Tracey Davis was shorter than both Harry and Daphne, closer in height to Astoria. Her long blonde hair was held back in a ponytail. She looked similar to her mother, with the same pointed nose and somewhat round face. However, her eyes were much darker than Paula's. She looked up after catching herself, a broad smile on her face as she rushed forward to meet the girls that were flanking him. "Daph! Tori! It's so good to… See you…"

She trailed off; her eyes locked onto Astoria. Her eyes followed along her tight grip on Harry's arm before she locked eyes with the Boy-Who-Lived. Her mouth was agape as she had now stopped completely a few metres away from her fellow Slytherins and her Gryffindor classmate. She seemed to be doing her best impression of a fish, looking between all three of them. Harry struggled to hold in his laughter, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye Daphne was shaking from her contained amusement. Astoria just giggled as Tracey looked over them all before squealing and rushing Astoria.

"And when the bloody hell did this happen, pipsqueak?!" she demanded, her eyes wide and her smile broad. Harry burst into laughter as Astoria did the same, letting go of his arm to hug her cousin tight.

"It hasn't Trace. Harry was kind enough to play along."

"Oh, it's Harry is it? Are you sure nothing has happened? Aren't you a little young for him, anyway?"

Tracey had successfully turned the tables on the youngest, who blushed slightly. Suddenly, she grinned and leant into Tracey and whispered far too loudly. "I would never still my sister's man, Tracey."

Harry felt his muscles tighten, a reaction he had noticed he had whenever his and Daphne's relationship was brought up. He wasn't sure what reaction his body had gone with – whether he was blushing or if the colour had drained from his face – but as he looked towards a fuming Daphne, he noticed she was bright red. At least he wasn't alone in his embarrassment.

"Astoria!" she screamed and began to hunt her sister down, something she admitted to Harry she had wanted to do for her earlier comments on the two of them. Harry began to smile as he watched them run out of the room, leaving a smirking Paula and a shocked Tracey who was openly staring at him as if he were some unsolved mystery.

All of a sudden, she moved in front of him, a shrewd look on her face. "What was that all about, Potter?" Her tone didn't indicate any hostility, merely confusion.

"Best you ask Daphne, since the two of you are close. Honestly, Astoria shouldn't have told you anything. It wasn't her story to tell," Harry shrugged. He scratched the back of his head before realising he had yet to formally introduce himself. He extended his hand to her. "Pleased to meet you, outside of class anyway. I'm Harry."

She looked between the hand and his eyes before smiling wide and taking it. "The pleasure is mine, Harry. I'm Tracey. Why the hell are you at the Brass Heart?"

Harry chuckled as Paula grabbed her by the ear, causing her to yelp. "Language, young lady. Harry is a guest here, as are we. He's to be treated like family during our stay."

Tracey chuckled and winked at him. "That close to Daph already, huh?" She must have seen the blush rise from his neck, because she closed the distance even more and asked conspiratorially, "How did you break through to her? I mean, don't get me wrong, you're very easy on the eyes-"

"Your mother is still right here, sweetheart."

"But looks never mattered to her. In fact, I've never heard her talk about anyone she liked. How long as this been going on? All third year?"

Harry's embarrassment continued and he was certain he looked as taken aback as Davis had when she saw him in this home. As she watched him struggle to speak, she laughed heartily and placed an arm around his shoulders. "Consider that payback, Potter," she announced with a wink.

The muscles in his body shuddered for a moment as he went rigid once more, but tried his hardest to play it off. He didn't know whether the blonde Slytherin had noticed that her physical contact with him had triggered that reaction. He recovered just enough to mutter, "Payback?"

She laughed even harder, and gently punched his shoulder. "Never side with Astoria against me. I may not be able to bring myself to embarrass the little minx, but I can definitely do it to you."

Harry chuckled with her as they walked with a gently grinning Paula towards the dining room for dinner. Still blushing, he thought back on his tumultuous day, and the almost day-long conversation he had with Daphne, and now his meeting with her best friend. He couldn't stop the small smile that grew on his face.

He could get used the atmosphere he found within these walls.


End file.
